


Wishful Thinking

by Arystina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 66 Seals (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels, Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Castiel is not all that helpful, De-Aged Sam Winchester, Dean Takes Care Of Sam, Demons, Episode: s04e08 Wishful Thinking, Family, Fluff and Humor, Gen, God - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Sam Winchester, Mild Language, Monsters, Prayer, Protective Dean Winchester, Rituals, Season/Series 04, Stuffed Toys, Uncle Bobby, Wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-08 09:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4299819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arystina/pseuds/Arystina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean asked God to give him his little brother back, he should have been more specific. </p><p>Set season 4, post the actual episode Wishful Thinking.</p><p> </p><p>Now, this story, having been written in 2009 in the middle of season 4, is definitely AU at this point and does not follow the events in the show. Also, please bear in mind that with this being an old fic that I wrote as a teen, the writing might not be the greatest and the characters may be a bit OOC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wishes Come in Small Packages

* * *

The air in the shabby motel room was thick with tension. Save for the rapid tapping of fingers on a keyboard, it was silent. Sam Winchester found that same silence nerve-wracking. He looked over at his older brother, who was reclining against the headboard of his bed, eyes closed. Sam knew he wasn't sleeping, but he wasn't talking either. Dean was being as stubborn as always, keeping all of his problems inside instead of talking about them, and Sam knew if this kept up, they would just build one on top of the other until they boiled over and his brother had a nervous breakdown. He had to say something, find a way to make his brother open up.

"Dean."

"What?"

"We need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

Sam closed the laptop. "Yes there is."

"And what's that?"

"You know what."

Dean sat up, annoyance clearly written on his face. "I already told you, I'm fine."

"No you're not, Dean!" Sam couldn't keep the anger out of his voice. "One hunt after another, the constant nightmares—don't think I don't see it. _This_ is killing you!"

"Yeah?" Dean sat up straighter. "And what about you? I come back from Hell and I find you banging a God damn demon! Oh, that's perfectly normal…"

"She's been helping me!" Sam spat back. This wasn't working out the way he'd planned.

"Helping you? She's a demon, Sam! Demon's don't help people, they use them, and that bitch has got you so wrapped up around her finger that you don't see that!"

"Not Ruby."

"So your freaky psychic crap is just a perk of being BFF with her?"

Sam twitched. "You were _dead,_ Dean. What was I supposed to do? I had Hell literally after my ass, wanting my head on a plate! I had to do something!"

"Oh, you did something alright," Dean retorted. "You changed. You're not the brother I left behind. Now you're…" He grew quiet and trailed off.

"I'm what, Dean? Huh? What am I? A freak? Is that what you were going to say?"

"You're Sam."

Sam's gaze narrowed. "What?"

"You're Sam," Dean said simply. "Sammy's…gone."

"Of course Sammy's gone!" Sam snapped angrily. "Sammy went out the door the moment you decided to take a trip down to Hell!"

Dean looked away. "I'm sorry."

"Just forget I said anything, alright? It was stupid to bring it up." Sam turned back to his laptop and began typing away again.

"Sam…"

"I said forget it."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself, then stood up, heading for the door.

Sam glanced up. "Where are you going?"

"I'm taking a walk."

"Man, if it's about what I said-"

"I just need a walk, okay Sam? Don't wait up for me." Dean opened the door and disappeared out into the chilly night.

Sam sighed heavily, irritated, and went back to researching nearby hunts.

* * *

Dean pulled the collar of his jacket up and shoved his hands deep into the pockets, trying to stave off the cold. He walked down the street away from the motel, not really certain where he was going.

"God, Sammy, what's happened to us?" he asked quietly to himself. "How did everything go so wrong?"

Since his return from Hell, Sam had been more distant, more aggressive, very unlike the Sam he'd left behind.

But what did he expect? Sam was right. He'd left, leaving Sam all alone. His brother had to toughen up if he'd expected to survive.

But did it have to stay that way?

"God, Sammy," he mumbled again. "I wish I could change this. I wish I could fix it like I always do."

His brow furrowed. That was it. God. Dean knew he wasn't much of a believer, but if Castiel was an angel like he said he was, that meant angels were real. So was God real too?

He noticed an old weathered church just ahead of him. There was only one way to find out.

His pace quickened in anticipation and he briskly went up the stone church steps two at a time. With just the slightest hesitation, he pulled the heavy wooden door open and slipped inside.

It was a small place, but it was obviously kept nice and tidy. The wooden pews were glossy with polish, Bibles neatly tucked into the backs of each one. The white cloth on the altar was freshly ironed, the silver crucifix above it shining. He glanced down at the recently swept floor to see a trail of dirt leading back the way he'd come. _Oops… Oh well._ No one else was around to see. He slid into the foremost pew and looked up at the painting of Mary on the wall, then to the cross.

"Well, I've never done this before," Dean said, licking his lips nervously, "so, uh, give me a chance. Please." He tried to remember what he'd seen of people praying and clasped his hands together, bowing his head.

"Umm, uh…" Damn, he was bad at this. "God…I guess you're all-knowing, so you know that my brother and I haven't exactly been getting along lately…not since I…well, you know…went to Hell. Castiel says that you have work for me, though I don't know what. But whatever it is, I just don't think I can do it." He spared a glance upward. "I'm…I'm so lost right now. When I went…downstairs…it seems I lost the very thing I tried to save. I lost Sammy. And if you could just…well…give me back my little brother, I'll do anything you ask." He could feel an onslaught of emotions building up inside him. "Anything…"

The church remained quiet, save for Dean's heavy breathing. He struggled with himself. "Please…I just want Sammy back."

What was it that praying people said at the end? _Oh yeah!_

"Amen."

He straightened up, feeling incredibly awkward, like he didn't belong. He probably didn't. Thirty years old and the first time he'd ever prayed. Sure, he'd dressed up as a preacher countless times, but actually prayed? He'd never even read the Bible!

Probably not the best thing to admit in a church either, even silently. He stood up. "Well…yeah. Hope you got that." He looked towards the altar one last time and headed out of the church.

"Have a nice walk?" Sam asked when he returned to the motel, still sitting in front of his laptop. Dean didn't miss the sarcastic edge to his question.

"Yeah. It was…enlightening."

Sam gave him a curious look.

"Well, I'm going to hit the sack," Dean continued, pulling off his shoes and shirt and slipping beneath the flowery quilt. "You'd best do the same. We're leaving tomorrow."

Sam nodded in agreement and powered down his laptop. "Kay ." He slid into his own bed and switched off the lamp.

Within minutes, Sam's soft snores could be heard throughout the room. Dean closed his eyes and tried to follow suit, though he knew only nightmares awaited him in the dark.

* * *

The early morning sunlight peeked through the mini-blinds, striking Dean full on in the face and rousing him from sleep. He blinked blearily, trying to wake himself up. It was a new day, and he knew it would be full of driving, hunting, drinking, and arguing, as was the norm these days.

He stretched. "Up and at 'em, Sam! We gotta get going."

There was no reply.

Dean looked towards the lump of blanket and comforter on his brother's bed. "Sam?" _Is it me, or does that lump look…smaller?_

It was.

_What the-? Did Sam leave without me?_

A small whimper threw that thought out the window.

"Dude, this isn't funny," Dean grumbled as he sat up and moved over to his brother. "Get your ass out of bed before I kick it into next week."

Another whimper.

"Dammit, Sam. You're acting like a friggin' little kid." He grabbed the edge of the blanket of ripped it back.

Large hazel eyes stared up at him from under a mop of unruly dark hair, chubby face squished into something akin to fear.

"The hell?" The kid didn't appear to be more than five or six years old, but he looked incredibly familiar. In fact, as Dean wracked his brain, he realized the kid looked just like… "Sam?"

The boy didn't respond to the question, but instead threw back his head and let out a long wail.

_"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDYYYYYYYYY!"_

* * *

 


	2. Welcome to Fatherhood!

* * *

" _Daaaaaaaaadddyyyyyyyyyyy!"_ the kid screamed again.

"No, no! It's all right!" Dean tried to calm the boy down. When he kept wailing, Dean cursed. If he didn't do something fast, someone was going to come and see what the commotion was about and he wasn't entirely sure how to explain the situation.

" _Daaaa-!"_ The cry was cut off as Dean made a decision and pulled the boy in his arms, clamping a hand over his mouth. The boy didn't make it easy though and began squirming and kicking.

"Shhhhhh, it's all right," Dean said as calmly as he could, struggling to retain his grip on the small form but the oversized t-shirt the boy was wearing making it very hard. "Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you."

The boy did the exact opposite and twisted around even more, little arms flailing and hitting Dean in the face. Dean hissed, but was determined not to let go, at least not until he figured something out, or the kid calmed down.

"Come on, I'll let you go if you don't scream," Dean implored the child. "I swear." He seemed to be getting through. "Please, I promise." The boy stopped moving around and Dean slowly removed his hand. He quickly regretted the action though when the kid bit down on his finger.

"Ahh! Dammit!"

The kid wiggled out of his grasp and darted into the bathroom. Dean leapt after him, ignoring his hurt hand, but the door was slammed in his face, the barely audible but unmistakable click of the lock reaching his ears.

Dean wanted to slam his fist against the door and demand the boy open up before he bust the door down, but he restrained himself. The poor kid was scared enough as it was. Instead, he slid down the wall next to the door. At least the kid had kept his word and hadn't screamed, though with the locked door now between them, that was still a possibility.

"Y-you be-better go away!" a small voice called, attempting to sound tough but coming out as more of a squeak. "Or m-my Daddy's gonna kick your butt!"

Dean snorted softly. "I'd like to see that one, kid." _What I'd like to know is where you came from._

"My br-brother could! He's gonna beat you dead!"

 _Oh God, please don't be… Please don't be!_ "Sammy…?"

There was momentary silence. "H-how do you know my name?"

 _If that's really Sam… Shit, how is this even possible?_ "Cause…" Dean took a deep breath. "I am your brother. I'm Dean."

The boy, Sam, seemed to scoff him. "Nuh-uh. My brother's ten, not old like you."

 _I'm not old!_ Dean then imagined himself in the shoes of a six year old. Well, maybe from Sam's point of view he was. "Then how do I know that your favorite color is blue, or that you like to eat Lucky Charms for dinner?"

"H—anyone could know that!"

"Then does 'anyone' know that when you were playing with Dad's silver knife, you cut me—Dean—with it? Remember?" He still had the small scar to prove it too. "I covered your ass and told Dad that it happened when I was practicing."

The room was silent again as Sam processed that. "I—Dean and I never told _anyone_ ‘bout that…" There was a click and the door opened a crack, enough for Sam to peek his head out. "Y-you really are Dean. You're really my brother."

"Hey there, Sammy."

"But you're so _big_ …"

"Well, you're kinda small."

Sam opened the door wider, his eyes bright and curious. "But how’d you get so big?"

"Actually, you got small," Dean clarified, "but I don't know—" He stopped. _No way. No friggin' way…._

He hadn't believed it possible. Hell, he hadn't even believed that the man upstairs was real, but apparently it was true. God had given him his wish. He'd given him his little brother back, though not in the way Dean had meant. Not even close.

He looked down at Sam, whose dark eyes now shown bright with wonder.

_Damn…_

His brother had been turned into his kid self, reverted back to a six year old. _So not what I wanted._

"I'm going to fix this, Sammy," Dean told him. " I promise." _I screwed up again, but this time I_ ** _swear_** _I'll make it right._

He leaned back against the wall as his literal kid brother crawled into his lap and looked up at him expectantly.

"'m sorry," Sam squeaked. He was referring to Dean's hurt finger.

Dean looked at it. "It's okay, Sammy. You didn't break the skin."

Sam nodded, but still looked forlorn. "You gonna keep me safe?"

Dean gave him a strained smile and swallowed with difficulty. "Of course I will. That's what big brothers are for, right?"

"Right," Sam said, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck.

Not knowing what else to do, Dean returned the hug.

"Dean?" the boy mumbled into Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Whr's Daddy?

"Umm, uh…" _Anything but the truth!_ "He's not here right now."

"Where is he?"

 _I forgot how you always asked so many questions._ Dean wracked his mind. "Work."

"When's he comin' back?"

Dean bit his lip. "Not for a while, Sammy. We're on our own." He thought about that a bit more. _Maybe not…_ He lifted his Sam's chin up so the boy's gaze met his own. "You hungry, kiddo? 'Cause I sure am."

Sam nodded.

"We'd better get changed then," Dean said, taking in Sam's appearance. The large t-shirt, the one the original Sam had worn to bed, was definitely unsuitable for public. On this little Sam, it was more of a dress, the edges dragging along on the floor. And if that was too big… Dean looked towards the bed his brother had been sleeping in and saw a pair of crumpled boxers. _Great…_ He gently moved Sam off his lap and went to his duffel. Slipping on a fresh t-shirt for himself, he rummaged further through his bag for some smaller clothes for Sam, but was out of luck.

"Guess we'll have to go shopping first," he said.

Sam nodded in agreement.

* * *

Shopping with a little kid was a nightmare.

While Dean had practically raised Sam up with their father being more on hunts than he was with his children, John had done nearly all of the shopping. Dean had always wondered why he'd detested the job so much, especially when he'd had to take Sam with him, but now he believed he knew.

From the moment they set foot in the Good Will store he'd found, his little brother began to fidget. Fidgeting then turned into a rush of energy, which Sam decided to spend racing up and down the aisles with Dean trying to catch him. Sam giggled, thinking it was a game. Dean's cheeks flamed red as store clerks and other customers looked their way, muttering about bad parenting.

He'd finally managed to catch up with his kid brother and hauled him back over to the children's section, where he proceeded to pick out several garments that Sam might like.

"How's this?" He held up a bright orange shirt with blue stripes.

Sam shook his head.

"Okay… How about this?" Dean picked up another.

Same response. Dean sighed. "What _would_ you like to wear then?"

Sam flashed him a dimpled grin and reached into the clothes rack, pulling a black t-shirt off its hanger. Dean took it and turned it around to see the bright yellow bat symbol in the front.

"Batman?" he asked.

The boy nodded.

"Okay then." And he threw it into the shopping basket. _One item down, how many more to go?_

It took another half hour for Sam to agree on two more shirts, then Dean was able to pull him over to get a couple pairs of jeans, a pair of sneakers, a jacket, and the other necessities. Afterwards it was the dressing room, and Dean could finally breathe easier now that Sam wasn't running around half-naked. He went to the check-out counter and tugged the tags off so that the clerk could ring up the price, though she raised an eyebrow at that. He shook his head, silently begging her not to ask.

He wasn't out of the store yet though. He'd barely got within five feet of the store exit when Sam pulled out of his grasp and ran back.

"Sammy!"

Sam was leaning over a large toy bin, riffling through it.

 _Ah, crap._ Dean went over to his brother as he pulled a large fluffy brown dog out. "Sam, you're too old for toys."

Sam pressed the stuffed animal against his chest and gazed up at Dean, his hazel eyes growing large and brimming with tears.

"All right, all right!" Dean relented, putting his hands up in defeat. He'd never been able to resist the puppy-eyes. "You can have it, just….please don't cry!"

The tears vanished in an instant. Sam gave a small 'yay!' and wrapped his arms around Dean's leg in a hug, too small to reach his waist.

"Thank me later," Dean grumbled, "after I've paid for it." He groaned when he took it to the counter and the clerk rang up the price. He flipped his wallet upside down, watching some of the last of his cash go into the register. He would have to go snag Sam’s wallet from the Impala, seeing as his brother had no use for it in his current state.

Dean looked down at Sam as they finally made it out of the store. "You happy now?"

Sam answered him by squeezing his new toy tight.

"Hmff." Dean glanced at his watch. "Shit!" They'd spent the entire morning shopping. He looked back at Sam. "Guess we can forget breakfast, Sammy," he said. "It's time for lunch now."

A low rumbling from Sam's stomach agreed. Sam winced.

"I hear you there, kiddo." Dean was feeling pretty hungry himself. "Why don't we eat out today. McDonald's sound good to you?" Not the best thing for a growing boy, but he'd worry about groceries later.

"Yeah!"

Dean smiled warmly at Sam's enthusiasm. "McDonald's it is, and afterwards we're going to see a friend of mine. Okay?"

"Okay."

Dean grabbed hold of his little brother's hand and they headed off.

* * *

 


	3. Not Much Help

* * *

Sam licked his fingers clean of the grease from his cheeseburger, then dove his hand into his Happy Meal bag for the toy. He gave an elated cry when he found it was a car and began running it up and down the table. Little purrs of _vroom vroom_ filled the air as he played.

Dean watched him with a small smile on his face. He'd forgotten how cute Sam had been at that age, how innocent and naïve of the horrors in the world. He missed those days, but he knew he couldn't keep his brother this way. Sam was twenty-six, not six, even though he looked and acted as such at the moment.

He enjoyed the scene a moment longer then crumpled up his napkin and tossed it onto the tray. "You ready to go, Sammy?"

The boy nodded and Dean cleaned up his trash and went and dumped the contents into the garbage before returning the tray to the counter. Sam tucked his toy car into his pocket and took hold of Dean's beckoning hand and they walked out of the restaurant.

"Wher' we goin', Dean?" Sam asked as Dean put him in the back seat of the Impala.

"I already told you, Sammy. We're going to see a friend."

"Who?" Sam asked, always the curious one.

"You'll see." Dean slid into the front seat and started the engine.

"Are they nice?"

Dean turned onto the main road and headed downtown. "Yes." _However stiff…_

"Will they like me?"

"I'm pretty certain."

"Wher' they from?"

"Far away from here."

"How far?"

"Very far." _Very,_ ** _very_** _far._

"Wha's—?"

"Sam," Dean said sternly, looking into the rear view mirror. "You'll find out when we get there, okay?"

"Okay."

The car was quiet for a few minutes.

"Are we there yet?"

Dean wanted to bash his head against the steering wheel.

* * *

He didn't have to endure Sam's endless questions for long as he soon pulled up to an old abandoned warehouse and got out of the Impala.

Sam glanced around nervously. "I don' like it here, Dean."

Dean took his little brother's hand and held on tight. "Don't worry, Sammy. You're safe as long as you're with me."

Sam reluctantly went along with Dean and they walked into the building. Moving towards the spacious center of the room, Dean pulled out a piece of white chalk with his free hand and knelt down to draw a strange symbol on the concrete floor.

"Whatchya doin'?"

"Summoning that friend I told you about."

"Sum'ning?" Sam struggled to say the word right. He watched curiously as Dean finished drawing and stood up. "Wha's that?"

Dean didn't have time to answer as the cracked light above them flickered on. Sam jumped. "Deanie, I'm scared…"

Dean cringed inwardly at the old nickname, but pulled his brother close. "It's okay. I'm here."

The light flickered again: on, off, on, off. A sudden breeze seeped into the old building, rattling the windows. Sam gripped the edges of Dean's jacket so tightly his knuckles turned white. "De…"

"Dean."

The voices were simultaneous, but the second, more powerful nearly drowned out the first. Dean looked up to meet the piercing blue gaze of Castiel.

"Took you long enough."

Castiel didn't respond, but instead looked down at the symbol on the floor. "Where—?"

"A friend," Dean interrupted. "He's got tons of lore on you guys."

"Robert Singer." Castiel inclined his head slightly. He didn't know the man as well as he knew the Winchesters, having only met him briefly when Dean had summoned him the first time, and then the elder hunter had spent most of the time unconscious. "This was unneeded." He indicated the symbol.

"How else was I supposed to get you to come?"

"You could call."

"Call?" Dean laughed. "So for angel services, all I have to do is dial 1-800-Heaven? Sorry, Cas, but I last I checked, there was no such number in the phone book."

Castiel's gaze narrowed slightly. "That is not what I mean. Next time you need something, simply call my name and I will answer if I can." He tilted his head, his gaze drifting away from Dean's. "Hello, young one."

Dean looked down. At Castiel's appearance out of nowhere, Sam had moved himself behind his brother in an attempt to hide himself. He poked his head out at the statement directed at him, his eyes wide like saucers.

"Say hello to the angel, Sammy."

Sam's voice was barely more than a whisper. "H-h-hi…"

To Dean's surprise, Castiel smiled, however small the expression was. _The tin man has a heart after all…_

"How are you, Sam Winchester?"

Dean blinked. "Wait," he said, before his little brother could respond. "You know?"

"Yes," Castiel said simply.

"Yet you _didn't_ feel the need to come down and help me?"  
Castiel frowned. "Is this why you've summoned me?"

"Yeah! Why'd you think?"

The angel seemed confused. "This is what you wished for, is it not? You prayed for this…"

Dean pulled Sam out in front of him. "I know I asked for this, but…" He was grasping at straws. "I didn't ask for _this!_ Fix him!"

Castiel shook his head. "I cannot."

"You— _why not?"_ When Castiel opened his mouth to speak, Dean interjected, "And if you say God's will I swear I'll shoot you where you stand."

Castiel closed his mouth. Apparently that had been what he was going to say.

"So what can you do, Cas?" Dean demanded. "Huh? You sit on a cloud all day strumming a harp or something? You're an angel, dammit! You should be able to help me somehow!"

Castiel cast his eyes downward, shoulder drooping. "I cannot change Sam back for you," he said carefully, "but I can give you any supplies you may require for his care."

Dean glared. "That's it? You give me anything he needs and fly on back home? Dammit, I can't just wait around for him to grow up again! Change him back!"

Sam winced as Dean raised his voice with each word he spat out at the other man, covering his ears with his hands. "Deeeaannn…" he whined.

Dean sighed and knelt down, gathering Sam into his arms. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I didn't mean to yell."

Sam uncovered his ears. "S'okay."

Castiel watched the two. "Truly, I am sorry I can't help you more, Dean," he said. "I'm sure if you pray hard enough, God will answer."

Dean snorted softly. "Yeah, sure. More praying. Think God will give me a refund?"

Castiel shook his head in disbelief, not understanding Dean's lack of faith. "You will find a box for young Sam waiting for you in your vehicle. It should help."

Dean huffed. _Whatever…_ He blinked and the angel was gone.

"Not helpful, huh, Dean?" Sam piped up.

"No," Dean mumbled. "Not helpful at all." _Friggin' angels…_ Dean stood up, pulling Sam with him. _Talk about a waste of time._ "Let's go, Sammy."

"Yay!" The boy was more than happy to leave the warehouse. It had given him the creeps.

"Yay indeed," Dean agreed. He frowned again though when he saw a large cardboard box sitting next to the Impala. "What the hell?"

Sam let go of his brother's hand and ran towards it. "F-f-o-r S-s-s-a-a-m-m. For Sam." He beamed at his success. "Dean, it's for me! It's for me!"

"So it is." Dean pulled out his pocketknife and cut through the tape sealing the box. A wide array of miscellaneous items was inside, from clothes to food to more toys. _If I'd known this, I wouldn't have gone shopping._

"Dean, look!"

Dean turned. Sam was holding open the back door of the Impala, pointing excitedly at the booster seat that now was there. "Great, Sammy. At least Cas got one thing right." _Even though I still need to figure out what to do about you…_ He settled Sam into the seat and moved the box of 'Sammy items' right next to him.

"Wher' we goin' now, Dean?" Sam asked as Dean sat down in the driver's seat.

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "I'd really hoped that Cas could fix this mess, but I guess I thought wrong. Maybe Bobby knows something…" He could already see how that would turn out.

_-"Ya idjit! What did you do?"-_

_-"Bobby, I know this looks bad, but I swear…"-_

_-"Bad? Boy, your brother is a SIX-YEAR OLD kid! This isn't bad. This is a disaster! How did this happen?"-_

_-"I uh…I kinda prayed for it…"-_

_-"You what? You dumbass! You should know better than that! Why, I outta take you over my knee right now and…"-_

He wouldn't put it past the older hunter either. One was never too old to get a good spanking if the occasion called for it. Dean figured he probably deserved it too.

"Unca Bobby!"

Dean spared a small smile in his brother's direction. "Yes, Uncle Bobby. He's going to love seeing you, kiddo." _He's probably going to kill me though…_

"Yippee!" Sam squealed, oblivious to his brother's discomfort. He always loved visiting Bobby.

 _Yep._ Dean thought, looking out the windshield. _I'm_ ** _so_** _dead._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder for those all caught up on the seasons, this is set in season 4 so Dean does not yet have much of a relationship with Castiel and Castiel is still very much naive and uptight.


	4. Perfect

* * *

 

The moment Dean pulled the car to a stop, Sam was unbuckled and out the door. "Unca Bobby! Unca Bobby!" he cried, running past the mounds of junk and rundown vehicles to the ramshackle little house.

Dean cringed. _Here goes nothing…_ He reluctantly got out of the Impala and followed after his excited brother.

"Who's all screaming 'Uncle Bobby' now?" came the loud voice. The grizzled hunter opened the front door. "Last I checked I was nobody's—oof!"

Sam collided with Bobby, giving him a tight hug. "I missed you, Unca Bobby…"

"The hell?" Bobby looked down, taking in the small child. "Who're you?"

"Hey, Bobby."

Bobby looked up. "Dean, what're you doing here? And who's this?"

Dean stopped short of the crooked front porch and ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. "That's…kinda why I'm here."

"What ya mean?"

"That," Dean indicated the boy latched on to his friend's leg, "is Sam."

"You mean…" Bobby lifted the boy's chin up to better see his face. Familiar hazel eyes stared up curiously at him.

"Hiya, Unca Bobby."

"My God," Bobby breathed, unbelieving.

"That's exactly it," Dean muttered. "I prayed to God to give me my little brother back and he did this. I guess I should have been more specific…"

"God…did this?"

"Yep."

Bobby gaze hardened and he shook his head. "Sammy," he said to the six year old. "Why don't you go inside; I need to talk with your brother for a second."

 _Crap,_ Dean thought.

"'Kay." Sam went into the house and Bobby closed the door behind him. He turned back to Dean.

Here we go…

"Just what were you _thinking,_ boy?"

"Bobby, I'm sorry," Dean said. "I—me and Sam got into an argument again and I—I just wanted him to be like he used to. Before all the angels and demons, before I went to Hell…" He sighed. "I just wanted Sammy back. So I…prayed."

Bobby stared at him for a moment, then suddenly threw his arms out and grabbed Dean in a hug. Dean blinked. This was the last thing he had expected.

Dammit, Dean," Bobby scolded, though his tone wasn't harsh. "You boys have been through some tough times lately, and I know Sam's changed, but you should know better than to—"

"To pray, wish, and ask supernatural beings for something," Dean finished. " I know. I didn't think it would really work though."

Bobby pulled back, giving Dean a stern look.

"Don't say it," Dean grumbled. "I know."

The older man let it go. He was remarkably a lot calmer than Dean had expected him to be. "Why don't you go ask your guardian angel for some help?"

"He's not _my_ angel, he's _a_ angel, and yes, I already did ask." Dean cast his eyes upward, angry. "But apparently he could do nothing about it. I was wondering if maybe you could do something."

Bobby inhaled deeply. "I dunno, Dean. I've never heard of this happening before."

"Dammit," Dean swore again.

"Hey." Bobby clapped him on the shoulder. "I didn't say I wouldn't try. I'm sure I'll dig up something. Just 'cause I ain't heard of it, doesn't mean it's not there."

Dean forced a small smile. "Thanks, Bobby. I knew I could count on you."

"That's what family's for, ain't it?"

Dean nodded in agreement.

"Dean! Unca Bobby! Ya comin'?" came the cry from within the house.

Bobby glanced at the older Winchester. "You know, I can't remember the last time I heard him sounding so happy."

"I know."

Bobby put his hand on the doorknob. "Maybe…this is just what you boys needed—what _you_ needed. To be a family again." He glanced Dean's way. "You should enjoy this while you can."

Dean frowned, but mulled it over in his head. He had to admit, he missed the days when he could take care of Sam and feel useful, and he missed the times when Sam actually smiled about something and the two of them laughed together. He missed…Sammy. He peered through the dirty window to see Sam running around in circles and making himself dizzy. So sweet and innocent…

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Bobby asked quietly.

He saw the mischievous glint in the elder hunter's eyes and the weight on his shoulders was lifted. "Yep."

Bobby opened the door a crack. "Think we ought to meet his demands? Kids can get pretty obnoxious if they don't have their way…"

"Oh, I know." Dean raised an eyebrow. "But I'm sure I can fix that with a round of tickling."

There was a squeal from inside; Sam had obviously heard that.

"Ready when you are," Dean said, and Bobby swung open the door, signaling a fresh start for the small family.

* * *

"Ahhhhhhhh! Dean! Stop!"

"Never!"

Sam giggled uncontrollably, rolling around on the worn carpet, as Dean tickled his sides and he struggled to get away from the unrelenting fingers. "Deeeaaaan! No more! _No more!_ "

"Okay, squirt, I'll give you a break." Dean sat back on his heels and let his brother catch his breath.

"You win," Sam panted out. He stared up at Dean through half-mast lids. "I'm too small to beat you."

Dean grinned. "You should have known better than to mess with the tickle-monster!"

"No!" Sam tried to scurry away as Dean grabbed him again, this time ruffling his thick mop of hair. "Dean!"

"I think you got him, Dean."

Dean relaxed his grip and Sam slumped wearily in his arms. "Yeah, I think so too."

"Unca Bobby?" the boy asked, looking up at the grizzled hunter.

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"I can't win. Dean’s too big and I'm too small."

"Is that so?" Bobby smiled.

"Yeah."

"Well, let's even the odds then."

Dean blinked. "What?" But there was no time to react as both Sam and Bobby tackled him to the floor simultaneously and began tickling him. "Hey! Knock it off! Ahhhhh!" He wasn't near as ticklish as Sam, but both Sam and Bobby were brutal in their antics. "Ahhh! Christ!"

"Give up, Dean?" Sam sat on top of his brother's chest, fingers attacking Dean's underarms.

"Ahhh! Yes! Yes! I give up!"

"What you say?"

"Please!"

Sam obliged and he and Bobby stopped. Dean raised his head slightly as Sam moved off, then dropped it back against the floor with a light _thunk._

"Dean?"

The older Winchester lay unmoving, eyes closed.

Sam nudged him in the side with one foot. "Dean, you's okay?"

No answer.

"Deanie?" Sam knelt down and put his ear on his brother's chest to listen for a heart beat. "Unca Bobby!"

"Huh?" Bobby tried to keep his face blank.

"I killed Dean!"

Dean's eyes snapped open and he snatched Sam into his arms. "Oh no you haven't!"

"Eeep!" Sam squealed, swatting at his brother's arms, but couldn't escape.

Dean held him close against his chest. "I'm gonna gobble you right up!"

"No! Noooooooo!"

Dean grin broadened. "Ah, Sammy, you should know that I'd never do that." He released his hold and Sam scampered away.

"You don' make a very good monster, Dean," the boy told him.

"I know. I don't," Dean agreed, sitting up. He watched as a huge yawn split Sam's face.

Bobby noted it too. "I think it's time for someone to go to bed."

Sam stood to attention. "No! Not sleepy."

"Yeah, sure," Bobby said, unconvinced as Sam yawned again. He bent down and scooped Sam into his arms. "Come one, tiger. It's beddy-time."

Sam lay his head against Bobby's shoulder and closed his eyes. "G'night, Dean…" he mumbled as he was carried up the stairs.

"Night, Sammy." Dean watched them go, sighing softly. There was a warmth in his heart now, one he hadn't felt in a very long time. It had been years since he had had so much fun.

Bobby was right. The situation wasn't an entire disaster, though it didn't mean he would stop trying to get his brother back to normal. Or at least what was normal for them. For once in his life, Dean actually felt as if things were perfect. No guilt weighing down on the both of them, no arguments—it was…perfect. Sure, he didn't have the steady girlfriend or the little house in the suburbs with the white picket fence, but he had Sammy. A Sammy that still let him in on all those feeling and emotions, who still cared about what he thought. Dean leaned against the tattered couch behind him, its pattern long faded. The situation wouldn't go unresolved, he knew, but it didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it, as Bobby had said. He would do just that, living it to the fullest, and holding onto that perfection for as long as it was there.

* * *

 


	5. Hidden Dangers

* * *

 

Sammy awoke to the enticing smell of homemade cheese omelets and hurriedly threw back the covers of the bed and dashed down the stairs.

"Whoa there," Dean said as Sam nearly ran into him in his haste to get to the dining table. "Slow down, kiddo."

Sam hopped into his chair and Dean scooted him in, ruffling his hair affectionately before taking his own seat. "Sleep good?"

"Yep!" Sam looked expectantly towards the kitchen where Bobby was making their breakfast. His Uncle Bobby made the best food!

"All right, boys." Bobby came out carefully balancing two plates in one hand and two glasses in the other. He set the dishes down in front of them. "Here you go."

Sam grabbed his fork up and began wolfing down his omelet.

"Sam!" Dean admonished.

Sam slowed.

"What can you expect, Dean?" Bobby asked the young hunter while watching the kid eat. "He missed out on dinner last night 'cause he was all tuckered out—he's hungry."

"True." Dean dug into his own meal, face lighting up at the delicious taste. "Thanks, Bobby."

"No problem. Nice to know I'm good for something." He headed back into the kitchen.

Dean rolled his eyes at the comment and looked back at his brother. "Sammy, close your mouth."

Sam stopped displaying his mouthful of half-chewed food.

Bobby returned with his own plate and sat down between them. "Well, eat up, Dean, before it gets cold."

"Yes, sir," Dean said, smirking.

"Smart-ass," Bobby grumbled in turn and began eating.

The rest of breakfast was spent in idle talk and light-hearted humor, with Sam having another giggle-fit. The sounds of the boy's happy-go-lucky attitude put the older men at ease, especially Dean. It was like a light in his dark, depressing life.

"Hey, kiddo," Bobby said amidst the cheeriness. "How about you come help me fix up that old Buick out back? Would you like that?"

"Uh-huh." Sam nodded his head excitedly.

Bobby grinned. It was a job he needed to do anyway, and it would keep Sam busy and out of trouble.

"Mind if I join you?" Dean asked.

Bobby cast him a stern look. "Don't you have something to do?"

Dean opened his mouth to ask what the older man meant, then remembered. "Oh. Right. Heh…" _Research Sam's problem. Gotcha._ "I'll get right to it." He gave Bobby a thumbs-up and headed into the living room to grab Sam's laptop.

Bobby shook his head and reached down to take Sam's hand. "Come on, Sammy. Let's go fix that truck."

"Dean's not comin'?"

"No, Dean's got work to do." Bobby smiled down at the boy as they headed outside. "But don't worry. You can hang out with him later."

Sam grinned. "Yay! Can we tickle him again?"

Bobby chuckled. "Only if you want to, kiddo." He could imagine little horns sprouting up from Sam's hair dark from the mischievous look that came over the boy's face. "All right then."

They went behind the house to where the rusted old Buick sat, looking like it would never run again, but Bobby was determined to make sure it would. It was his job after all.

He popped the hood and frowned at the mass of twigs and grass that sat on top of the engine. "Well shit."

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Ewww. Rats."

"Yep," Bobby agreed.

Sam looked up at him. "Hey, Unca Bobby? Think Dean still wants to help?"

Bobby cringed. "Sammy, believe me, your brother wouldn't touch this truck with a ten mile pole if I said there're rats in it."

* * *

_Crap. Trash. Nope. Nothing there either. More garbage…_

Dean clicked through the various internet links looking for something, anything that would give him a clue to help him change Sam back. Unfortunately his brother had always been the research geek, while he was better at blasting monsters away. Well, until Sam went all freaky with his Jedi mind tricks, but that wasn't the point.

Dean leaned back in the rickety wooden chair he was sitting in and stretched his arms, yawning at the same time. He absolutely hated research. Give him a gun any day…

A loud rumble split the silence, making Dean jump in his seat. Bobby and Sam had finally got the truck up and running. He pushed back his chair and headed out the back door.

"Dean!" Sam called from where he sat on the open tailgate at the same time as the engine died down and Bobby jumped out of the cab. "Dean, we fixed it!"

"Good, Sammy," Dean praised, walking over to him. "But now you have to paint it."

Bobby ruffled Sam's hair. "He's already volunteered to help me with that too, haven't you, champ?"

"Yep! It's fun!"

"I'm glad you feel that way, kiddo." Bobby turned to Dean. "So, ya find anything?'

Dean shook his head. "Nothing worth mentioning. Just a bunch of crap."

Bobby sighed and looked at Sam, who was staring up at the clouds in the sky in wonder. Was there anything they could do, or would Sam have to grow up all over again?

"Look, Unca Bobby! That one looks like a bird!" Sam pointed up at a puffy cloud. "And there's a bunny!"

"Yeah, I see 'em, Sammy," Bobby said sadly.

Sam lowered his head. "Wha's wrong? Why're you sad, Unca Bobby?"

"It's nothing, kiddo." Bobby gave a small smile. "I'm alright." Bobby glanced at Dean.

"I'll keep looking, Bobby," Dean assured him. "Hell, I'll even take Cas' advice and pray some more if I friggin' have to. It's the cause of this whole mess anyway."

Bobby snorted softly. It was difficult for him to see Dean praying to begin with; the young man believed in things he could see with his own two eyes and nothing else. Since God had never actually been seen, to Dean He didn't exist. "If you hadn't prayed in the first place, this wouldn't be such a mess." But he quickly regretted saying those words at the sudden crestfallen look on Dean's face.

"I know…"

"Unca Bobby! I wanna a ride!"

Sam's squeaky little voice broke through the gloomy atmosphere that had begun to build up and the two men refocused on him.

"What?" Bobby asked, thoroughly confused.

"I wanna ride!" the boy said again.

"I think he means a piggy-back ride," Dean guessed.

"Yes!"

Bobby scratched the back of his neck. "Oh boy… Ya sure you don't want your brother to—?"

"No! I wants you."

Bobby gave in and turned around. "Get on." Sam scooted forward on the tailgate and wrapped his arms and legs around Bobby. Bobby slipped his hands under Sam's knees so the boy wouldn't fall off and lifted him off the truck. "Hold on, Sammy."

Sam wrapped his arms around Bobby's throat. "'Kay." And they took off.

Dean couldn't help but laugh as Sam made Bobby jog around the junkyard, not giving the old hunter a break. Bobby panted, but he didn't stop, happy that Sam was having so much fun.

"Yippee!"

Bobby tried to catch his breath. "I'm…getting too old…for this…"

Sam only laughed and held on tighter.

"Gah! Gotta breathe, kiddo." Bobby wheezed, but kept running.

"Yippee!" Sam said again, his hair bouncing up and down with each step Bobby took.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean called. "Time to give Uncle Bobby a break."

"But, Deeeeaaaaaannn," Sam whined.

"Not 'buts,' Sammy," Dean said. "It's time for a break."

Bobby stopped and knelt down, thankful for the reprieve and Sam reluctantly let go. He turned to his brother. "I wants a ride, Deanie!"

Dean blinked. "Aren't you tired of rides now?"  
"Nope!"

"Geez, you're just a bundle of energy today, aren't you?" Dean bent over and poked Sam's stomach gently. "Beside, it's time for lunch. Aren't you hungry?"

Sam shook his head, but a sudden rumble from his tummy said otherwise. He cringed. "But I wanna another ride!"

"Maybe later," Dean said. "Let's get you fed first."

"How's a grilled cheese sandwich sound, Sammy?" Bobby asked, pushing himself to his feet. His face was still rather red from running.

"Okay." Sam hopped between them and grabbed each their hands, pulling them towards the house. "Then 'nother ride!"

Unbeknownst to the happy trio, a fourth presence was not far away, watching them from where it hid amongst the junk piles, its pitch black eyes full of hatred and malevolence.

* * *

 


	6. Blood of the Innocent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder: This story is AU, delving away from the canon path of season four, specifically starting in this chapter.

* * *

 Soon as lunch was over, Sam was back at it again, begging Dean to give him a piggyback ride. Dean cast a sideways look at Bobby, who shrugged.

"He's your brother," he said, and went off to look in his books for something about Sam's condition.

Dean felt a tug on his coat sleeve.

"Come on, Dean! I wants a ride!"

Dean sighed. "Do I have to? What about…" He drifted off in thought. "Hide and seek? Does that sound fun?"

Sam's brow wrinkled, but then he gave a nod. "Okay. I hide, you find me, 'kay?"

"Okay." Dean turned around and put one hand over his eyes.

"An' no peeking!"

"I would _never."_ Dean began to count.

"One hundred!"

 _Really?_ Dean kept on counting, hearing the light patter of Sam's footsteps hurrying across the wooden floor, then the bang of the front door. _Outside then…Unless it's a trick._ Sam wasn't stupid. He had fooled Dean on more than one occasion when they were both young.

Definitely not planning on counting to one hundred by each single number, Dean counted by fives. Slowly. It was more than enough time for Sam to hide—he was resourceful. "…Ninety…ninety-five…one hundred." He opened his eyes. "Ready or not, here I come!"

In the adjacent room, Bobby rolled his eyes. _Boys…_

Dean searched the house once over, looking in all the nooks and crannies that a six-year old could fit in, but found no Sam. Outside it was. He bounded out the front door and down the steps. "Well I wonder where Sammy is?" he asked in a singsong voice. "Oh where, oh where has my little bro gone?"

There was a giggle to his left.

"Ah-ha…" He hunched over in a mock stalking mode. "I'm gonna find ya, Sammy…"

Another giggle. Dean pinpointed its location and popped his head into the shell of an old car. "Gotchya!"

No Sam.

Dean scratched his head. "Huh." He walked around again, keeping his eyes wide open. "I know you're here somewhere, Sammy…"

A giggle came again and Dean smiled slyly. _There you are…_

* * *

Sam saw his brother weaving in and out of the junk piles, alert and determined, a human bloodhound.

"Here, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…"

Sam tried to stifle the giggle that rose up out of his throat.

"Hmm, I wonder who that could be…"

Dean was getting closer to where he was crouched hidden in a short tunnel of large piping. Time to move! He slunk away, trying to stay out of his big brother's sight and not make a sound. Seeing an old refrigerator several yards away, he rushed forward and dropped down behind it. He peeked his head out carefully. _Try and find me now, Dean!_

At that very same moment, without a hint of warning, a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

He let out a small yelp and jumped.

"Sam?"

A woman stared down at him from under her wavy brunette hair, her dark eyes wide. "Damn, so the rumors were true…"

He blinked, pressing himself back against the fridge and causing the wiring to dig rather painfully into his back. Something wasn't right. _She_ wasn't right. He wished Dean would find him now…

"No, it's okay, Sam," the woman said, "I'm a friend."

He didn't care. He wanted her to go away. So he did what any scared six-year old did.

He screamed.

* * *

The moment the high-pitched scream shot through the air, Dean ditched the playful act. That wasn't the scream of a happy child. No, it was terrified—in danger. Sam was in danger.

The cry was cut off abruptly and Dean quickened his step in the direction it had come, fear gripping his heart. Bobby must have heard the scream too, as he came storming out of his house, shotgun in hand.

That same fear was instantly replaced by immense anger when Dean reached the end of the junkyard and saw his brother—and who was with him.

"Ruby! Let him go, now!"

The demon was hunched over, holding a squirming Sam against herself and one slim, manicured hand clamped over his mouth. At Dean's furious tone, she glanced up, her eyes flicking to black. "Dean."

"Let him go, bitch," Dean growled.

There was a crunch from her other side and she looked up into the silver barrel of the shotgun.

"Ya heard him," Bobby said gruffly, not pleased to see the demon either. "Let the boy go."

Ruby complied, standing up slowly with her hands raised in the air. Sam tore away from her and ran into Dean's arms, frightened tears trailing down his chubby cheeks.

As Dean comforted his baby brother, Bobby jabbed the shotgun into the demon's ribs none too gently. "What're you doin' here, Hellspawn?"

Ruby shifted, annoyed. "Is this how you treat all your guests?"

"No, this is how I treat trespassers," Bobby spat, "'specially demons. Be happy I didn't shoot your ass moment I saw ya."

Ruby narrowed her eyes. "Well, next time I won't bother to come give you a warning."

Dean straightened up, attentive but his hand still stroking Sam's hair in comfort. "What warning?"

Ruby glared at Bobby before answering, and the old hunter got her unspoken request and reluctantly lowered the barrel, pointing it towards the ground. She took note that his finger never left the trigger. "Demons are heading this way as we speak," she said finally.

"You mean more besides you? What do they want?" Dean shifted uneasily.

Ruby waved at Sam, who turned away from the demon and buried his face into his brother's shirt. "Him."

Bobby moved around the demon to stand with the brothers. "Why? He's only a kid, what use is he to demons?"

"Everything," was her simple answer.

Bobby's hand twitched on the gun. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She spoke quickly, realizing that the hunter wouldn't hesitate to blast her away if she didn't tell him what he wanted to hear. It was the only reason he hadn't done so already. "A seal. He's needed to open a seal."

"What?"

"One of the seals requires the sacrifice of an innocent," she clarified. "One pure and free of sin.

"Well, I wouldn't consider a little kid 'free of sin,'" Dean said, trying to cover up his ever growing fear with sarcasm. "They get into all sorts of trouble."

"You know what I mean, smart-ass," she snapped. "Free of pride, lust, gluttony." She studied Sam. "Some his age have known greed, but then," she raised her gaze to Dean's, "he's always had a soft heart, hasn't he? So caring and self-sacrificing…"

Dean unconsciously held on tighter. "But there must be others, someone else!" He didn't like that idea either, but anyone but his Sammy!

Ruby shook her head. "It has to be a pure soul—a hunter's soul."

"But Sam—at this age—he hasn't hunted yet!"

"It's in his blood."

Sam turned his head back to the demon, eyes red and puffy from crying.

"I'm sorry," Ruby told them.

"Is that all?" Bobby asked then.

"Yes."

He raised the shotgun again, aiming it straight for her heart. "Then get the hell off of my property."

Ruby curled her lip slightly. "Nice to know I'm appreciated." Before either Dean or Bobby could respond to that, she turned her heel and stalked off.

"Think she's tellin' the truth?" Bobby asked the younger man. "Or is this her idea of a joke?"

Dean tilted Sam's head up so see his face. The boy was still clearly frightened, even more so now after hearing the demon's words, or at least what he was able to make sense of. "I don't think so. As much as I hate to admit it, Ruby's always tried to help us, though sometimes," he recalled Sam's evolved psychic powers, "it's unwanted. But she wouldn't lie about this. At least, I don't think she would."

Bobby hefted the shotgun in his hands. "Well, best not wait around and find out. Better to be safe than sorry." He looked around warily, as if expecting demons to burst out from hiding at any moment. "Come on, let's get back inside and form a perimeter. No demon's getting Sammy. Over my dead body."

* * *

 


	7. Fortitude

* * *

 

Sam was scared, more so than he'd ever been before. Unlike the strange man in the tan coat, the dark haired woman had not been nice, not at all, and she had messed everything up. Now his big brother and Uncle Bobby were scared too, for him. Somehow he felt as if it was all his fault…

"Dean?" he mumbled into his brother's shoulder as he was carried down a flight of stairs into the basement. "Dean, I'm scared."

Dean hated that he was hearing those words so often the last few days. "It's gonna be all right, Sammy. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you."

Ahead of him, Bobby pulled open the heavy iron door of the panic room he'd built for such situations. "Well, get in!" He ushered them inside. "I'll be joinin' ya in a sec, lemme just grab a few things." And with that he disappeared back up the stairs.

Dean lowered Sam to the ground and let him gaze around the small room. "Dean, what're those?" He pointed to the symbols on the wall.

Dean knelt down beside him and pulled him into his arms. "Those will keep you safe, Sammy. As long as you're in here, you're safe."

"The monsters can't get me?"

Dean's heart clenched at the strained, frightened sound that was his brother's voice. "No. No monsters can get you, not in here."

Sam nodded, but continued to look around warily.

Heavy footsteps came down the wooden stairs as Bobby ran down them; he entered the panic room with an armful of blankets and pillows. "Here." Dean let go of Sam to take them. "These should be enough." When he'd set up the room, he'd only expected maybe one or two people to use it, not a little kid as well.

"Where's Cubby?" Sam asked suddenly. "I wants Cubby!"

"Cubby?" Bobby looked dubious. "What's cubby?"

Dean thought about that too, then it came to him. "His dog! The one I bought for him; it's still up in his room!" _Dammit, Sam…_

"On it." Bobby didn't seem to care that it was a toy and went back up the stairs.

Dean laid the blankets off to one side and began to set in a makeshift bed, bundling some blankets so Sam wouldn't be sleeping on the cold, hard floor.

"Unca Bobby savin' Cubby from the monsters?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "Uncle Bobby's saving Cubby."

Bobby returned soon after, stuffed dog in one hand and a bundle of items wrapped in canvas in the other. "Here, kiddo," he handed the dog to Sam, who took it happily. "Safe and sound." He turned around and set the bundle on the floor, unrolling it. An assortment of guns and knives were revealed. "There's more in that corner there," he said to Dean, pointing, "along with bags of rock salt and a couple gallons of holy water." He straightened up. "If there really are demons comin,' they're goin' to get one helluva fight."

Dean cocked his .45. "Damn right."

* * *

They were coming.

Up through the ventilation shaft above them, storm clouds were gathering, unnatural bolts of lightning streaking across the blackened skies. With it, the air temperature was dropping rapidly, sending chills through the room.

Sam, the day's events finally catching up with him, lay curled up on the makeshift bed. His sleep was far from pleasant, though, as the cold seeped into his bones and he shivered. Breaking from his post by the door with Bobby, Dean went over and pulled the extra blankets over Sam's small shoulders. Then, for some reason, he knelt down and planted a small kiss on top of Sam's mussed hair. There was a contented sigh from the small boy who snuggled against the stuffed dog in his grasp and began sucking on his thumb.

Dean stole on last ruffle of Sam's hair and returned to Bobby's side.

"Sleeping, huh?" the older man asked. "Poor kid."

Dean nodded and looked out the open door down the walkway. Dust drifted down from the ceiling as the house above shook on its foundation. "How long do you think the salt lines upstairs will hold?"

"If they're really desperate, not long," Bobby replied. "And from the sounds of it, they want to tear this place down."

"Shit," Dean cursed loudly. "As if we didn't have enough problems." He glanced back at his little brother. "This…this is all my fault."

"Dean—"

"No, Bobby, it is," Dean interrupted. "If I hadn't prayed to God for-" he waved at Sam, "this, we wouldn't have this problem."

"You didn't know."

"Well, you always did say 'careful what you wish for' when we were kids."

"True," Bobby admitted. "But there ain't nothing wrong with wanting your little brother back, Dean, even if the wish didn't turn out the way ya wanted." He smiled as he looked over at Sam. "'sides, it was nice seeing you two as a family again."

"Yeah…" _Too bad nothing lasts._

There was a loud shattering of glass upstairs and the two men had their weapons up and ready in a second flat, aiming towards the staircase.

"Ya ready for this, Dean?" Bobby asked gruffly.

Dean growled, not shifting his gaze. "Bring it on."

Another crash, closer this time, and the house shuddered again. Bobby grumbled something about them paying for destroying his home. He was silenced as a gust of wind shot down the stairs and into the panic room, whipping their clothes with the force. Sam awoke with a start.

"Deeeeaaaaaannn, wha's goin' on?"

"Just stay where you are, Sammy," Dean said. "It's going to be okay."

Damn, he seemed to be saying that a lot lately, and nothing really _had_ been okay. And now, as he watched dark torrent of demons flood the stairwell and drown out the light, he knew that things were nowhere near okay.

Sam whimpered, pulling the blankets around him in a tight bundle.

"Awww, is little Sammy scared?" came the soft, sickly-sweet voice as the storm died down. A young woman stepped forth, black eyes twinkling from under her long golden locks. Other possessed people stood behind her. "Come out and let us make it _all_ better for you."

"Not a chance, bitch." Dean aimed his gun at her.

She sneered. "Think that peashooter is going to stop us?"

"No," Dean admitted, "but this will." He aimed up towards the ceiling of the hallway and fired.

The rope that was pinning the bag of salt flat against the ceiling broke, spilling the contents down below. All the demons jumped backwards out of the way, hissing as the salt formed a thick line across their path.

"Try and pass that, you sonsofbitches!" Dean hollered.

The possessed woman snarled. "You think you're so smart, Winchester? Fine. But sooner or later, you'll have to come out." She smiled. "And we'll be waiting."

Dean was about to throw back a witty response, but then acknowledged the truth. They only had enough rations to last them a few weeks, maybe a month. He wasn't sure if the demons would hang around that long, but he wouldn't put it past them. Demons were anything is not patient.

He knew that firsthand.

There was a sharp tug on his sleeve and he glanced down. "Sammy—"

"De, make them go away," Sam trembled. "Make the monsters go away…" He fixed his frightened gaze on the hoard of demons just outside the panic room. "Please, Deanie."

Seeing that Dean was at a loss for words at his little brother's scared request, Bobby laid his weapon aside and pulled the boy into his lap. Sam sniffled and curled his hands into the old hunter's clothes.

"Shhh," Bobby murmured, cradling Sam in his arms. While he'd never had kids, he'd always thought of the two Winchester boys as his own, especially after John's passing. The fatherly instinct came easy to him now as he held the six-year old tight in his arms, rocking him to sleep. Sam snuggled into that warmth and soon drifted away.

Bobby kept swaying him gently in his arms, glancing out the door. Dozens of liquid black eyes stared back, filled with hate and hunger.

The demons were sickened by the show of affection.

"Soon," came a raspy hiss.

"Ours," said another. "All ours."

"No," Dean said flatly. _"Ours."_ The mumblings of the demons were nerve-wracking. Maybe he could exorcise them? _Naw, they'd get away before that…_ He could shoot them, but that wouldn't have much effect either. It wasn't like he still had the Colt lying around close by.

There was a rustle among the demons, hushed whispers in a tongue that neither Dean nor Bobby could discern.

One, a Caucasian male in a black suit, turned their way. Then with a sneer and sounding very Arnold Schwarzenegger-like, he said, "We'll be back." And slowly, gradually, they went up the stairs and disappeared, leaving the house silent once more.

The panic room brightened suddenly and Dean looked up, seeing the sun peeking through the demonic clouds. He blinked. "No way our luck's that good…" he muttered.

Bobby looked grim. "Probably a trick. How stupid do they think we are?" He glanced down at the snoozing Sam in his arms. "We'll wait a couple hours, then see. But Sam stays in here until this is settled, ya hear?"

Dean gave a nod. He wasn't going to have it any other way. And he was willing to bet that the demons would stay true to their word and return. He studied his baby brother's sleeping face. It was scrunched up slightly, indication that his dreams were troubled, probably filled with 'monsters.'

 _Don't worry, Sammy,_ he thought. _I won't let them get you. You're my pain-in-the-ass little brother and it's my job to protect you. Always has been, always will, not matter what age you are._

Another part of him though silently hoped that he could keep that promise.

* * *

 


	8. The Enemy Within

* * *

 

The hours passed by slowly, making the three occupants of the panic room twitch with anxiety. Not helping, Sam had long since woken up and was just a bundle of energy, darting around the room in an attempt to burn it off and crawling all over his older brother and Bobby, prattling on and on.

"Dean, are the monsters gone?"

"Unca Bobby, how long we hafta be in here?"

"I'm hungry."

"Dean, can we go out now?"

"Unca Bobby, I want a story!"

Then the worst one.

"I got to go."

"Go?" Bobby asked. "What you mean—?" Then Sam began hopping around on one foot, holding his hands low, and the old hunter knew. "Oh… Oh!"

"Unca Bobby, I really got to go!"

"Shit," Dean said. "Bobby, where's the bedpan?"

"Here." Bobby found it and passed it over to Sam, who looked at it curiously. "Well, don't just stare at it, boy, go over in the corner there and do ya business!"

Sam blinked. "But you're watching…"

Bobby sighed and smacked his forehead, but Dean chuckled. "Sammy, I pretty much raised you and Bobby baby-sat on occasion; it's not like we haven't seen it before."

"If it bothers you that much, we'll turn around," Bobby added.

"You might peek!"

Dean rubbed his face with one hand _. Oh boy…_

Bobby looked at his watch and stood up.

"Where're you going?" Dean asked.

"To look around and see what damage those hell spawn caused," Bobby replied. "It's been nearly five hours since we heard anything." He hefted his shotgun at Dean's worried look. "Don't worry, it's not like I'm going unprepared. But this will give Sam his privacy and a chance for me to raid my fridge, if it's still standing. Rations just aren't fit for a growing boy…"

Sam grabbed his nether regions again. "Unca Bobby, jus' go!"

Bobby shook his head in disbelief and, however cautiously, headed out of the panic room and up the stairs.

Sam looked over at Dean, looking like he was about to burst. "Dean, out!"

"No," Dean said. "I'm not leaving you alone."

Sam's face scrunched up. "Out the door, not leave."

Dean frowned but got the message. "'kay, but I'm not shutting it all the way. If you have any problems—"

"Dean! I'm a big boy; can take care of myself!"

"Sure you can," Dean smiled slightly. "But like I said, I'll be _right_ here." He stepped out and shut the door partway.

"No peeking!"

"No way, little man," Dean replied with a bit more humor.

It was short-lived as a thunderous crash followed by a shout came from above.

"DEAN!"

Dean jumped forward, then remembered Sam. He swung around and jerked open the door, Sam just finished pulling up his pants.

"De-?" he squeaked. He'd heard Bobby's cry.

"Sammy, I need you to listen to me," Dean ordered. "I'm going to close the door and you're not to move until I get back. You got that?"

Sam nodded.

Dean knew he could trust Sam and he pushed the door shut, bolting the lock for extra measure. Careful not to disturb the salt line, he leapt over it and sprang up the stairs. "Bobby!"

Inside the panic room, Sam moved back to his corner and huddled beneath the blankets. He grabbed Cubby and pressed his face into the dark fur, choking back a sob. Like he said, he was a big boy. Big boys didn't cry. He would be brave for Dean, because Dean was brave too. Dean was off fighting monsters.

Sam buried himself deeper into the covers as more loud noises reached his ears, the _bangs_ and _crashes_ drilling worry into his heart. Dean would defeat the monsters. He had to.

Upstairs, Dean certainly had his hands full. Demons had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, swarming over the house like a plague of locusts. Bobby was holding his own across the living room, throwing salt and holy water and spitting Latin verses into the air.

Demons screeched in anger, scrambling over furniture and knocking the piled books all over the place as they tried to overpower the hunters. Dean shot several demons with his .45, knowing that it wouldn't stop them but hoping it would at least slow them down. He was backed into the kitchenette, being forced away from Bobby. He cursed, then spotted an iron skillet hanging from the ceiling and grabbed it. Tossing his .45 to the side, he swung the skillet and smashed it against the side of one possessed man's head. He sank to the floor, coughing, black smoke pouring from his mouth and disappearing into the evening air.

One down, a hundred to go.

Dean needed something else. A skillet wasn't much against the growing number of demons. A bag of regular salt sat on the counter and he snatched it up. Not nearly as good as rock salt, but still good in a pinch.

He smirked at his own little joke.

"Dean Winchester!" Another man charged him, black eyes filled with wrath.

 _Uh, oh._ Dean tore the salt bag open in one deft move and flung a fistful. The man screamed as it made contact with his skin, and Dean took the chance to swipe a line of salt across the floor, cutting off the group of demons that had followed him into the kitchen. There was not enough salt to do a full circle, but he at least had one side covered. He tossed the empty bag aside and spun on his heel to face the other doorway.

But any idea he'd had to fight suddenly vanished, replaced by shear shock. "Wha—?"

He was unable to finish his sentence as a fist slammed solidly into his face. Dean blinked fuzzily, trying to make sense of what he was seeing even as his body bent over backwards on a collision course for the floor.

"Sorry." Familiar green eyes twinkled, not sorry at all. "But your luck just expired."

* * *

 

Bobby had managed to actually exorcise several demons, trapping several under hidden Devil's Traps that he had littered around his house just for situations like this, and somehow managing to imprison others in a circle of salt. Thankful that he'd memorized a few exorcisms, he had sent them back to the depths of Hell, leaving those who'd been possessed lying around wondering how they'd gotten there.

Where the Hell was Dean?  
Then he saw him, moving towards the staircase to the basement. "Dean!" he shouted over the commotion.

The younger man turned, and thought he looked disheveled and a bit worse for wear, Bobby was relieved to see that he was otherwise unharmed, or at least as he could make out from where he stood. Dean gave a nod, and seeing that Bobby was in no immediate danger of being overwhelmed anymore, disappeared downstairs.

Indeed, the demons were slowly dispersing, though Bobby felt a nagging sensation at the back of his brain, a bad feeling. He didn't have them often, but when he did, it was usually bad news.

* * *

Sam squirmed uncomfortably, but thankfully the terrible sounds from above were beginning to die down. Did Dean and his Uncle Bobby win? Were they okay?

A small clang tore him out of his questioning thoughts and he stared at the door. It opened, and he smiled broadly as his big brother poked his head in. "Sam, we need to go, now!"

Sam blinked. "Where's Unca Bobby?"

"Upstairs." Dean stepped into the room and yanked the blankets off of Sam. "C'mon, we have to hurry."

"Why?"

A strange look flashed across Dean's face, almost angry, and Sam pulled back.

"Don't question me," Dean barked. "The monsters are coming and they're going to eat you up is you don't come with me now!"

Sam stood up, clutching Cubby tightly to his chest. If Dean said the monsters were coming, he believed him. He held out a hand.

Dean pushed it away and hoisted Sam up. "Sam, drop the damn dog."

"But—"

"NOW."

Dean's tone left no room for argument, and Sam reluctantly let go of Cubby, watching the large toy plop onto the stone floor. He was unable to stop the tears the streaked down his cheeks. What had gotten into his brother? Why was Dean being so mean?

He would get no answers as he was held tight and Dean ran down the hallway and back up to the top floor. Sam winced at being bounced up and down, but said nothing. He was now more focused on the group of strange people turned his way, their eyes flicking to liquid black. He squeaked.

Monsters. They were monsters.

He could hear his Uncle Bobby shouting in a language he didn't know from somewhere nearby. Was he okay? Were the monsters going to eat him?

The thought churned his tummy unpleasantly.

Focused on something else entirely, Dean moved swiftly through the house and out the back door into the darkened junkyard, heading for one of the working vehicles.

"Dean, why we taking Unca Bobby's truck?" Sam dared to ask as Dean pulled open the door of the old Dodge and pushed him inside. The Impala was only a few yards away, and Dean never went _anywhere_ without his car.

Dean didn't answer as he slammed the door shut and darted around to the driver's side. He pulled down the visor where the keys were hidden and stuck them into the ignition.

"Deanie? Wha' about Unca Bobby?"

"Dammit, do you ever shut up?" Dean snapped. "Annoying little brat…"

Tears welled up in Sam's eyes. "Y-you're not Dean. You're not my brother."

Dean snarled. "I said _shut up!"_ He turned in his seat and grabbed a handful of Sam's long hair. Sam screamed and twisted around, but was no match for the adult, and with terrible force, 'Dean' slammed his head against the dashboard. Sam slumped against the door, out cold, a thin trickle of blood trailing down the side of his face.

"Obnoxious brat," 'Dean' muttered. He pressed down on the gas pedal, and with a squeal of tires, sped out of the junkyard and down towards the highway. There was a blare of a car horn as he narrowly missed another vehicle coming from the opposite direction. The headlights washed over the Dodge, striking him in the face. He hissed, eyes flashing white.

Angered, he jerked the wheel, forcing the car off the road where it narrowly missed hitting a tree, and continued on his way. He had a delivery to make and no one was going to stop him.

He pressed the pedal down to the floor, barreling down the highway and leaving Singer Salvage and the hunters far behind.

* * *

 


	9. Revenge—Best Served Cold

* * *

 Bobby had heard the rumble of the one of the trucks out back, but paid it little mind as he had his hands full with demons.

Then, suddenly, he didn't, as they exited their hosts and flew out the shattered windows, disappearing into the night.

Well, most all of them anyway.

The woman who'd spoken to them from outside the panic room was trapped beneath the Key of Solomon, shrieking for all she was worth. Seeing the grizzled hunter, she stopped, a coy smile on her lips. "You're too late you know," she told him, a small laugh deep in her throat. "Not like you had a chance to begin with."

 _No…_ He swung his head towards the basement.

"That's right," she taunted. "You'll find that he's long gone, Singer. You and Winchester have _failed."_ She flashed her polished white teeth. "Where's your God now?"

Bobby ignored her and rushed for the stairwell, pushing passed the dazed, wandering people who'd survived the possession. Afraid of what he might find, or wouldn't find, he took the stairs two at a time down into the basement and swung the door to the panic room open wide.

The demon had been telling the truth. Sam was gone.

Bobby bent down and picked up the brown dog, his hands trembling as he held it. "No…"

And Dean? He'd seen him come down here, he was sure of it. So where was he? Not seeing the older Winchester, Bobby went back upstairs hoping, praying, that he just missed the youth. Then heading into the kitchen, he found him. "Dean!"

The hunter lay haphazardly on the floor, limbs askew. Bobby dropped down beside him, fear knotting his chest and he checked for a pulse. He breathed easier. It was there, strong, if a little fast. Bobby slapped the pale cheek lightly. "Dean, wake up, kiddo. Ya gotta wake up for me."

Dean groaned. "B'bby? Wha-?" He opened his eyes.

"Sam's gone."

" _What?"_ Dean shot upright, nearly banging his head against Bobby's. "No! How can this be? I locked the door; there's no way he could've gotten out!"

"What do you remember?"

"I—I…" Dean's brow furrowed. "Man, I might've been seeing things, but I think I got the knock-out from myself."

Bobby studied the younger. "Yourself?" His eyes widened. "Unless…"

"What?" Dean could see Bobby was onto something.

"Shapeshifter."

Dean frowned. "Why would a shifter help demons? That doesn't make sense."

"Unless they had something to gain from it," Bobby pointed out.

Dean swallowed with difficulty. "Sam…"

"Gone."

Dean nearly broke then, his façade crumbling, threatening to be overwhelmed by emotions. "Where—?"

"One demon got left behind. We'll ask her."

Dean nodded, trying to compose himself. "Let's get to it then."

* * *

" _Sammmmmmmyyyyyy."_

He squirmed as the soft feminine voice called him back to awareness, a whimper finding its way past his lips. He felt terrible; his head throbbed incessantly, sharp pain shooting through his skull each time, and his stomach twisted this way and that along with it.

_"Sammmmyyy."_

It was louder now, more persistent. He struggled to obey, wearing himself out even as he did so.

"Come on….thaaaaaaat's it. Good boy, Sam. You're such a good boy."

"It's a kid, not a dog," a man muttered from somewhere above him. "Why are you being so nice anyway? It's sickening."

"He's sick—"

"Really?" said another. "Well, personally I could give a shit."

 _Dean?_ It certainly sounded like him, but why was he so mean?

Then he remembered. It wasn't Dean, just someone that looked like him.

"You should care!" the woman snapped. "If he dies, you're life is forfeit. Why did you have to hit him so hard?"

"He was being annoying," came the response.

"Most children are. By the way, your skin is sagging."

"What? Shit…" There was a rush of footsteps across wooden flooring, then the slamming of a door.

"'bout time," the other man mumbled. "I was getting sick of seeing that damn hunter's face."

"Stop your bitching. Using that face is what got us the boy."

"De…?" He couldn't help himself. He wanted his brother, his _real_ brother. Dean would save him from these bad people.

"Sam? Sam, you feeling okay, baby?"

He scrunched his face up. _Not a baby…_ He opened his eyes and blinked blearily, seeing the outline of the woman's face hovering about his own. "Wh'r De?"

"Shhh, it's okay, Sammy." She said, avoiding his question. "It's going to be okay."

A glass was lifted to his lips and cool water dribbled past his lips. He drank it greedily, not realizing how thirsty he'd been, but it was taken away all too soon and he began to squirm again.

"No…! Dean…!"

It was a bad move on his behalf and his stomach rebelled against him. He rolled onto his side just in time and threw up.

"Ugh…disgusting!" the man said.

The acrid smell of puke invaded Sam's nostrils and he threw up again.

"C'mon, help me before he chokes!"

Someone pushed him into a sitting position and shoved what seemed to be a bucket under his nose. His stomach twisted again and again, and he barely had enough time to catch his breath before his mouth was full of the vile remains of the day's meals. During all this time someone rubbed small circles on his back, helping him through the process until he was subject only to dry-heaves. He collapsed in their arms, too weak to keep himself on his knees anymore.

"Sam?"

His stomach settling down, he peered up fuzzily at the woman, whose wavy dark hair tickled his chin. She seemed very familiar, but his head hurt too much to see straight, let alone focus. "W-wan…De…"

"Dean's not here, Sammy."

"N-no… NO!" He wanted Dean! Adrenaline kicked in and he lashed out wildly, punching, kicking, and biting.

" _Sam!"_

He ignored the appalled, instead fighting to get away. "Deeeeeeaaaaaannn!"

"Hold him!"

Feet pounded the floor heavily as people rushed over to him, multiple hands grabbing for his flailing limbs.

" _Ahhhh!"_ he cried. _"Deeeeeeeaaaaaaaannn!"_ Then, _"Daaaaaddddddyyyyy!"_

There was a tearing sound and something sticky was wrapped round and around his wrists, binding them together; same went for his ankles. He screamed again, both in response to the pain that shot through his head and in fear.

"Damn it…shut him _up_!"

A strip of duct-tape was plastered on his lips, immediately reducing his terrified cries to muffled whimpers and sniffling. Now bound and gagged, he could move little beyond wiggling like a worm and say even less. _Deeeeaaaaannnn!_

Then he was thrown over someone's shoulder and bounced along as he was carried off, moments later only to be dropped unceremoniously onto a hard mattress. Another door slammed, leaving him alone.

Not knowing what else to do, he cried. Tears fell freely from his eyes and poured down his face, soaking into the surface beneath him. Exhaustion swept over him as the last reserves of his energy was spent, despite his best efforts to try and stay awake.

Monsters…

He shivered.

_Dean?_

He was cold then, very, very cold.

_Please, De…_

_Dean…_

Sleep dragged him under, thoughts of his brother following close behind.

* * *

What a mess.

Between over a dozen innocent people dead, those alive wandering around in confusion, and a demon that wouldn't talk, Dean was ready to beat the crap out of something. Probably the demon, but who was he hurting? Just the poor woman it was possessing.

All in all, just a huge waste of time. Time they couldn't spare.

And now that the sun was just peeking over the distant hills, he wondered if it were already too late.

He threw his head up to the sky. "CAS! _Castiel!" I'm calling you dammit; so show up already!_ He kicked the dirt in frustration. "CASTIEL!"

_He better come or I swear to whatever higher power I'll tear his wings off!_

"That would not be advisable."

Dean swung around. The angel stood a few feet away, tilting his head in that damn annoying way that made the hunter grit his teeth. "You could have done something!" he accused, curling his hands into fists. "You could've stopped this! But did you? No! Were you too busy singing in the angel choir or something that you couldn't wave your hand and make the demons go _poof_?"

"I was preventing a seal from being opened—"

"A seal _is_ being opened, with my little brother being the damn sacrifice! If he hasn't already—"

"No."

Dean glared at the angel. "Oh, so you _were_ paying attention. You son of a—"

"Tonight," Castiel cut him off. "During the harvest moon."

Dean's shoulders slumped. "He's still alive? That means we have time…"

Castiel nodded.

"If you knew," Dean growled, "then why didn't you do something?"

"I was ordered not to intervene."

"Ordered not to?" Dean gave a dry laugh. "Of course, I forgot. You can't think for yourself. You're just someone's obedient little lap dog running around fulfilling order after order. Do you get a nice doggy treat to go along with that?"

"Dean—"

"No!" Dean snapped. "Just go. It was a mistake to call you."

Castiel's eyes glanced up warily. "There is an old farmhouse 56 miles east of here. That's where your brother is."

Dean studied the angel, giving a nod of thanks. "Knew I could count on you, Cas." He turned to go, then stopped, another question nagging at him. "Cas…the thing that took Sam…it _was_ a shapeshifter, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"But why would a shifter work with demons?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Cas?"

"Pennsylvania," the angel replied.

"What?" Dean frowned. "What about—" _Oh._ "But he's dead. I killed him."

"You did, but he had a brother."

"He… _Shit!"_ Dean swung at the air. "So what? Taking Sam was some sort of revenge?"

"It was. He wants you to feel the same hurt he did when you killed his brother."

"No…" Dean dropped to his knees. "No no nonononono…"

Castiel moved to his side. "There is still time. Do not give up so easily." He grasped Dean's upper arm and pulled him back up. "Get your friend and go. I will…" he looked around, noting the damaged state of the house, "clean up."

"Thanks, Cas."

Castiel dipped his head, and when Dean blinked, he was gone.

* * *

 


	10. Time and Time Again

* * *

 

Sam's health had rapidly declined through the night and he was now raging a fever, sweat dripping down his trembling form. His cheeks were flushed, the silver duct tape on his skin a sharp contrast. Even as Ruby watched him, his small chest began to rise up and down faster and faster, as though he wasn't getting enough oxygen. He was near hyperventilating. She reached out and gently peeled the tape on his lips away, with her other hand brushing the matted bangs out of his face. Sam whimpered at her cool touch, his body recoiling for it, but didn't wake.

"Sam?"

His only response was another whimper.

Ruby swore under her breath, itching to wrap her slim hands around the shapeshifter's throat and squeeze. This hadn't been in the plan. Not at all. What good would it do them if Sam died _before_ the ritual?

She had a mind to go right now and blast a hole through that damn shifter's heart.

Sam rolled onto his back, his soft moans becoming louder. She pulled him towards her, despite his unconscious protests, and began to curl her fingers in his hair in an effort to soothe him.

"Shhh, Sammy, it's going to be okay," she cooed. "It'll all be over very soon."

On the other side of the house, a darker more sinister force was at work.

Blood dripped down from a clenched fist, pooling into an intricately carved stone bowl. The demonic black eyes of John Travers reflected the crimson, a sly smile twisting the corner of his lips. He dipped a finger in, swirling the liquid around, muttering rapidly in a harsh dialect.

A whisper reached his ear and he stared into the depths of the bowl, listening intently.

_"Satana"_

Images swirled round and around, a series of events playing out before his eyes. Then it froze, showing a shiny black car speeding furiously down a highway, a desperate young man behind the wheel.

He spat.

"Winchester…"

John flung the bowl aside viciously with a hiss. "No!" His fingers twitched, wanting to tear the nearest thing he could grab to shreds. But such rashness would be costly. He took several deep breaths to calm himself, the stony-gray eyes of the ranch-hand he was…borrowing…returning.

Time was of the essence.

Ruby's head shot up as he swung open the bedroom door, raising an eyebrow at his stern face.

"Winchester is on his way here."

She stood up, pulling Sam along with her. He cried out pitifully at the sudden movement, but she ignored him. There were more important matters at hand.

"How soon?" she asked.

They're forty-five minutes away, maybe less at the rate they're moving," he replied. He glanced at Sam. "Get to chamber and guard the boy. I'll go call the others." He spun on his heel, not waiting for a reply, and left.

Holding onto Sam tight, Ruby hurried outside to the side of the farmhouse. There was an old storm cellar, and adjusting her grip on Sam, she threw it open and hurried down the weathered steps. Inside, it was dark and dank, and she blindly stumbled along to the far back where there was a hidden door and began to feel around for the latch that opened it. She found it, and pushed the door open. It automatically relocked behind her, and she walked quickly down the hallway, which was on a steady decline downward. Familiar with the route, she was unbothered by the lack of lighting.

It was several minutes before she saw a hint of light, and when she did, she quickened her step. The dirt beneath her feet became stone, her heels clicking softly against it, the light growing brighter and lighting up her path, and pretty soon she reached an iron wrought fence. Beyond it lay a massive chamber, shaped like a dome. The ceiling was nearly 20 feet above her head, with a circular grate at it's peek that sent a ray of light streaking down to a stone table below: the altar.

The seal.

One of the more official seals, it was covered in curious symbols and runes. They were the markings that kept demons in Hell, that _bound_ Lucifer to the Pit. But not for long. This seal was going to be broken.

And Sam was going to be the one to break it.

Ruby strode up to the altar and laid the boy down on it. Sam twisted around on the cold surface, his breaths coming out in short, shallow bursts. His face was covered in a slick sheen of sweat, more pouring down his face and sending shivers through his body as the cool air hit it. Ruby glanced upward to the grating in the ceiling, but seeing that the light was going nothing to ease Sam's discomfort, she took off her jacket and draped it over him. He quieted down somewhat, his quakes less pronounced. But only somewhat.

Pulling out a lighter, Ruby left his side and moved towards the torches lining the walls, lighting each one as she moved around the room. The flames cackled to life, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. It brought a slight warmth along with it, making Ruby feel a bit more cozy in the chamber.

Now all she had to do was wait.

* * *

Dean must have broken every speed law there was as he drove down the highway, but still he felt he wasn't going fast enough. He'd left Bobby behind long ago, biting the dust, and if there had been other cars on the road, he would have surely crashed. There were probably going to be repercussions for pushing the Impala so hard, but he didn't care. Not now. Sam was in danger. Sam came first above everything else, even his car.

Not that he would admit that to Sam of course.

 _God, Sammy, what have I done?_ This mess was all his fault. If he hadn't prayed, Sam wouldn't have turned into a child, and if Sam hadn't turned into a child, he wouldn't have become a target for a horde of demons. Dean's grip tightened on the steering wheel. If only he could turn back time and prevent it all from happening. But he couldn't. He was stuck with his choices.

And if Sam died, he had no one to blame but himself.

Dean put all his strength into the gas pedal, trying to get the Impala to surpass a speed that wasn't there. Sam. He couldn't lose his little brother. Not now, not ever.

He'd proven that at Cold Oaks when he'd sold his soul, and despite the horrors he'd seen there, he'd gladly throw himself back into Hell if it meant that that Sam would live.

Smoke on the Water rang out through the air suddenly, the sudden rock music causing Dean to jerk the wheel in surprise. He swore, swinging the car back into the right lane, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. _"What?"_

"Don't 'what' me, boy!" Bobby snapped form the other end. "What the hell do ya think you're doing, going off like that? You'll get yourself killed!"

"Better me than Sam," Dean mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

There was a snort. "Dean, just pull over and wait for me."

"But Bobby—"

" _Wait_ for me. Else I'll be kicking your ass into next week."

Dean wouldn't put it past him. "Fine." Reluctantly he slowed and pulled alongside the road, cutting the engine. "Happy now?"

"Cut the crap, Dean. Remember, you're no good to Sam if you're dead."

"Yeah, yeah." As far as he was concerned, he was going to die anyway. It was only a matter of time.

Wasn't the first time he'd seen the end of his trail.

* * *

Bobby was only ten minutes behind him, and when he arrived, he cursed up a storm. Something about foolish, thick-headed boys. Dean didn't need to bother to ask whom the older man was talking about. He knew.

"Dammit, Dean!" he shouted.

"I know," Dean said before Bobby could speak further. "Do me a favor—yell at me later. Sam needs us."

"Damn right he does," the other grumbled. "Needs his idgit brother."

"Bobby—"

The older man waved a hand in dismissal and jumped back into his car. Dean did the same, and then they were back on the road.

Dean squirmed in his seat, longing to 'put the pedal to the metal,' but he knew that Bobby's old rust bucket would have a hard time keeping up. Not to mention that the old hunter would wring his neck for being so reckless.

* * *

 


	11. Fading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies beforehand if the Latin in this chapter is not 100% accurate. I did try.

* * *

 

Finding the farmhouse was no problem after that, but then they ran into another problem.

They were waiting, about twenty of them standing around the weathered old building and guarding it.

Dean twitched. His brother was inside.

_Sammy…_

It was a showdown of hunters versus demons.

Who would win?

Dean hefted the shotgun, leveling it with one demon's head.

He would be the deciding factor. For Dean Winchester was a force to be reckoned with when his family was threatened, when _Sammy_ was threatened.

"You really don't expect to win, do you, Winchester?" Dean's target demon asked with a sneer. "You are clearly outnumbered." The man's eyes flicked black. "And outmatched."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Dean replied with a grin. "Don't you know? This is my lucky day."

Before arriving at the farmhouse, Bobby had persisted that they wait a few hours, and Dean had cursed and spat that they'd wasted half of the day standing on the side of the road, time that they should've spent rescuing Sam.

He'd been so full of anger that he hadn't noticed Bobby making several phone calls.

Now, as he grinned broadly at the demon, he was glad. They wouldn't have been able to do this on their own. Thank God…or whatever…that friends weren't far away.

And as Ellen Harvelle, Tamara, and others emerged from the surrounding forest, the demons found themselves more at a disadvantage.

Then all hell broke loose.

* * *

_So many of them. So damn many of them…_

Dean weaved in an out of the combating demons and hunters, blasting rock salt and splashing holy water here and there. What he wouldn't give for a few Devil's traps at the moment…

Lines of salt were strewn across the ground, providing a barrier here and there in a sort of defendable position, and demons were more easily ripped from their hosts as numerous exorcism rites rang through the air.

But there were so many of them… For every five that they sent back to Hell, ten more appeared in their place. Where were all these people coming from?

And as the fight went on, the day was near ending and the sky was cast into different shades of red and gold as the sun slowly set behind the hills.

_No…_

Dean knocked a demon out of his way and leapt up the porch steps into the house. _Sam…_

He ran through the building, searching high and low for his little brother. "Saaammmmmmyyyyy!"

Nothing but demons.

Then suddenly the whole place shook and he caught himself on a desk to keep from falling to the floor. Demons screeched around him, black smoke billowing from their mouths and flying past him to the windows, and they were gone.

He blinked. "The Hell?"

"Not quite."

Dean turned. "Cas?"

The angel stood there, his clothes looking a bit rumpled, but otherwise the same. "Dean."

"I thought you couldn't help. Won't you get in trouble with your angel buddies?"

Castiel seemed unmoved. "You are my charge and my responsibility. If you are in danger, I come." He waved his hand at the dazed people on the floor. "Demons do not enjoy my presence."

"Good thing, then," Dean replied. "I was beginning to think we were losing."

"You were."

 _Thanks for putting it so bluntly._ "Yeah, well, thanks, but I still need to find Sam. Where is he?"

"Here."

"Where?"

Castiel's eyes flicked upward. "I have been here too long already; I must go."

"Cas!"

"Be careful, Dean," the angel answered. "There are still demons hiding in dark places." Then with a flutter of wings, he was gone.

"Dammit!" Dean swore. He looked around. Well, at least Cas had the decency to scare away a dozen demons.

"Dean!"

Ellen darted into the room, followed by Bobby and a couple other hunters. "What happened? The demons all up and left."

"I know."

"Why?"

"Castiel paid a visit."

Ellen frowned. "Who?" Then Dean remembered that he'd never really told anyone. They all figured that Sam had something to do with his getting out of Hell.

"Never mind." Bobby pulled on her arm. "We still need to find Sam." He glanced up. "Dean!"

"I—I don't know, Bobby. Cas didn't say where—"

Or did he?

' _There are still demons hiding in dark places.'_

"Bobby, are there any caves nearby or somewhere that they could've taken Sam?"

"I don't—"

"The storm cellar," Ellen said suddenly. "I saw one the way in."

And all having the same thought, they ran back outside to the side of the house.

Padlocked, but nothing a nicely placed bullet couldn't fix, and Dean almost jumped down into the basement in his haste. "Saaaaammm!"

It was dark, and with the night coming, nearly pitch black. Tamara pulled out a flashlight and shown it around. The beam scattered across boxes and debris, but no Sam.

But there was a demon.

A young man in baggy jeans and a plaid button shirt was leaning against a pillar, chewing on a bit of straw. His black eyes glinted with mirth. "Missing something, Winchester?"

With a roar, Dean was across the room and grabbed the man by the collar and swung him away from the pillar into a wall. "Where is he?"

"Temper, temper," the demon said. "That's just the kind of thing that got you into Hell in the first place."

Dean slammed a fist into his face. "I'm not asking you again: Where. Is. Sam?"

The other licked his lips and turned aside, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the dirt floor. "You know, you're really only hurting my meat-suit more than me."

Dean growled, ready to swing again, when Bobby grabbed his arm to stop him. "He's right. We won't get anything out of him this way."

"No, but we can this way." Dean pulled a knife out of his belt and held it up to the demon's face. "I'm sure you know all about this." He thought he saw a flicker of fear. "So, you'll talk." He ran the tip down the side of the other's face. "Or I can gut you right here."

It was the only thing he could, and would, ever thank Ruby for, was the nifty little knife that she gave Sam that could actually kill demons.

* * *

Ruby's head twisted sharply towards the hallway when she heard the reverberating echo of the first scream, then up to the ceiling where night had now gathered. Was there enough time? Possibly, but with the hunter's so close, she couldn't wait around to find out. She still had work to do.

She passed over the ritual blade to another demon, who had joined her after she's finished setting everything up. "You know what to do," she said, before gathering up her own things. There was more than one way out.

And she was gone.

The other demon picked up the blade and stood over Sam, running her finger down the edge as she began to chant. _"Ecce Satana, inventor et magister…"_

Not far away, the lifeless body of John Travers slumped to the ground, long since dead from the demon's possession, and now the demon along with him as Dean withdrew the blade from his throat and tore open the secret door, running down the darkened hall like his life depended on it.

Like Sam's life depended on it.

And the other hunters weren't far behind, struggling to keep up and not trip over their own feet as they shared one light between them.

I'm coming, Sammy. Big brother's coming for you…

* * *

" _Mundus spiritus contremisce et effuge, invocato a Domine Satana…"_ The woman raised the blade above Sam. _"Ecce Satana…!"_ She brought the blade down with devastating force—

It never struck home. A booming noise rang through the chamber, and the woman slowly dropped to the floor, the knife sliding from her fingers. "Nooooo!" With a scream, the demon exited her body and disappeared through the grating high above.

Dean lowered his .45. They'd done it. Sam was alive. Sam… _"Sammy!"_

He burst through the iron gate and ran over to the alter where his little brother lay bound.

"Sammy! Sammy, I'm here. I came…I came for you…" He put out his pocket knife and cut the tape away, tossing it aside. "I told you I'd keep you safe…"

"Sam?"

God, he was burning up.

Dean pulled him into his arms. "Sammy! C'mon, Sammy, talk to me!"

Sam's lashes looked so dark against his pale skin, and not once did he twitch as Dean slapped his cheek lightly. "Sammy." Dean could feel himself panicking. "Sammy, please wake up…"

Other hunters crowded around him.

"Oh lord—"

"Is he—?"

"Dean?"

Dean ignored them as he brushed Sam's hair away, sickened at how hot his sibling's skin felt. "Sammy, please… Please don't do this to me…"

There was no response.

No movement.

No breath.

No nothing.

* * *

 


	12. Resolute

* * *

 

"No…Please, Sammy… Don't you do this to me! Sa-aam!"

Not trusting the altar, Dean laid Sam on the ground and began CPR. "C'mon, Sam! Pleeaaase!" He pinched Sam's nose and tried to breathe for him.

There was a cough and Sam's eyes fluttered, his lungs rattling as he took a breath.

"Oh my God, Sammy…"

Sam wasn't conscious, but at least he was breathing.

Bobby knelt down next to him. "He needs a hospital, Dean. Now."

Dean nodded. "Y-yeah…" He was still too shocked that he'd almost lost Sam…again.

Seeing that, Bobby took Sam into his arms. "Move!" he barked at the others, shoving his way past and running back up the hallway. Dean took a second to calm himself, then ran after. Sam still needed him. He wasn't out of danger yet.

In no time, Dean was in his car with Sam lying so frightening still in the passenger seat next to him. Dean slammed his foot against the gas pedal. If he'd thought he'd driven fast before, it was nothing like now. In one way it was a miracle the Impala didn't lose part along the way into the next town, and when things were fixed and made all better again, if they even _could_ be, he promised he would give his poor girl a good long session of pampering.

But that wasn't important now. Now it was all about Sam.

And Sam was running out of time.

* * *

The plan had failed. Samuel Winchester was still alive.

The shapeshifter watched the sleek black Impala speed away, followed by the many other hunters.

Demons… They couldn't be relied on.

He would just have to take matters in his own hands then.

* * *

Dean paced the length of the waiting room, clenching and unclenching his fists as he was overcome with worry. His fellow friends and hunters had arrived soon after the EMTs had carted Sam away, though many had departed quickly so as not to create a scene, leaving only Bobby and Ellen to try and comfort the distraught young man.

"Dean, maybe you should sit down—" Ellen said.

"No."

"I'm sure everything's—"

"No."

Bobby smiled sympathetically at Ellen for her efforts. He knew how stubborn Dean could be. The boy had gotten it from his father.

And he knew that if Sam died, Dean wouldn't be far behind. He could only hope that they arrived in time for the younger Winchester.

As it was, every minute that passed dwindled their hopes.

Dean's head shot up from its fixed gaze on the floor as Sam's doctor, a middle-aged man by the name of James Harwick, entered the waiting room.

Bobby and Ellen stood up with fearful anticipation, and Dean was instantly beside the doctor, his face pale and body tensed for the worse. "Is he—?"

The doctor smiled gently. "You can relax, Mr. Conner," he said. "Your brother is fine."

Ellen nearly toppled over in relief. "Oh, thank God."

"I do say, Sam was very lucky," Dr. Harwick continued. "He has a moderate concussion and is suffering from severe dehydration. We've got him stable with a steady flow of fluids to speed his recovery. He should be able to go home in a day or two. You might want to consider filing a lawsuit against those other boys because Sam did nearly die."

Dean exhaled the breath he'd unconsciously been holding and gave the doctor a nod. That had been his story behind Sam's condition: a case of schoolyard bullying that when to an extreme. It was believable, considering the increased rate of school shootings and violence in recent years. "Yeah, yeah I'll do that. Can I see him?"

Another smile. "Of course. He's been asking for you."

 _He's awake? Does he remember what happened with the shifter? What if he hates me?_ Dean shoved his tumultuous thoughts aside and quickly followed Dr. Harwick down the hall, Ellen and Bobby in tow.

Sam looked shockingly pale against the white sheets of his bed, and Dean inwardly cringed at the nose canula and the IV stuck in his little hand, but it was all forgotten when Sam's hazel eyes fluttered open and he flashed a dimpled grin. "Dean!"

There was no hate, no fear, only a joyous burst of emotion that radiated through the small hospital room, and Dean dove right into it.

"Sammy!" He was instantly by his little brother's side and enveloped him in a hug, careful not to bump into any of the wires or machines that beeped around them.

The doctor bowed his head slightly. "I'll be outside if you need me," he said, not wanting to intrude on this family moment, and closed the door behind him.

"You saved me from the monsters, De…" Sam mumbled into Dean's coat. "You prawmished you would, and you did. You saved me."

Dean planted a kiss on top of Sam's head. "Of course, Sammy. As long as I'm around, I'll protect you. I'll always protect you."

Sam snuggled closer. "I wuve you, De…"

"Love ya too, squirt."

The boy shifted in Dean's arms to look past him and grinned. "Hiya, Unca Bobby!"

"Hey, kiddo." Bobby was relieved to see that the incident hadn't permanently dulled that innocent spark. "Feeling better?"

"Uh-huh." Then Sam wrinkled his nose. "Bu' this itches…" He scratched at the skin just above the IV.

"Well, I don't know what I can do about that," Bobby said, smiling back, "ya need it right now til your doctor says otherwise."

"Yah, I know,' Sam said. "I needs the n-nu-twients." He fumbled over the word.

Both men laughed, and Ellen smiled.

That's when Sam noticed her. "Who're you?"

"Uh…"

"She's your Auntie Ellen," Dean said, earning him a gentle swat on the shoulder.

"You're making me feel old," she grumbled.

Sam looked her over. "You saved me too?"

"I guess you could say that, Sam," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "We all did, but none more than your brother. He really loves you, you know."

 _Oh God…here we go with the chick-flick moment…_ Dean thought with a cringe.

"That's cause he's the bestest best brother in da whole world." Sam beamed up at his older sibling. "Righ,' Dean?"

"Right, Sammy." Then Dean licked his lips, dreading what he was about to ask. "So…what do you remember?" He wanted to know. No. He _needed_ to know.

Sam blinked, settling back against the pillows. "I…not much…" he said. "I 'member you an Unca Bobby leaving, an the monsters comin' an I was scared… Then you came back an said we had tah leave an….." His forehead wrinkled. "Tha's all. Am I suppose' to 'member?"

Dean spared a worried glance his friends' way, then smiled down at Sam. "Nah. It's nothing important. You just think about getting better, okay?"

"'kay."

* * *

 

Sam's memory loss was just a side affect of his concussion, Dr. Harwick later told them. He'd hit his head pretty hard, so it didn't come as much of a surprise that it had knocked a few things loose. The memory loss was mild though, and likely only temporary.

At that, Dean tensed up. So how long would it be until Sam remembered?

And when he did, would he ever speak to Dean again?

* * *

" _Sam, drop the damn dog."_

" _But—"_

" _NOW."_

Sam trembled at the harsh voice of his brother that left no room for argument.

" _Deanie? Wha' about Unca Bobby?"_

" _Dammit, do you ever shut up? Annoying little brat…"_

_Tears welled up in Sam's eyes._

" _Y-you're not Dean. You're not my brother."_

" _I said shut up!"_

He felt the intense fear, then the blinding pain lace through his skull…

" _Deeeaaaannn!"_

" _Deeeeeeeaaaaaaaannn!"_

" _Daaaaaddddddyyyyy!"_

Sam jolted awake, slick with sweat and eyes wide and darting around wildly.

No. Dean couldn't hurt him. Dean _wouldn't_ hurt him.

Would he?

Sam curled into a ball, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and breath coming in quick short bursts. The doctor had removed the nose canula earlier that night, but now he wished he hadn't. He felt like he was suffocating.

"I want to go home…" he whispered into the dark. "I…I want my mommy…" He sniffled.

"Awww….poor baby all alone?"

Sam jumped, not expecting to get a response. "Dean?"

His brother stepped out from the shadows into the path of the moonlight streaking in through the window. "You know something, Sammy?"

The cold voice sent shivers down his spine. Sam shook his head.

"I don't like you."

Sam bit his lip.

"In fact, I hate you," Dean continued. "You're such a crybaby, a spoiled little brat."

"No…no please…Dean…" Sam choked back a sob.

"Shut up," Dean snapped. "I don't even know why I put up with you." In two quick steps he was by the bed and leaning over Sam. "Gonna go cry for Mommy?" he taunted. "Mommy's dead. You killed her. You killed poor Daddy too. You killed everyone who ever cared for your sorry ass."

"No…" Sam began to cry, and a hand shot out of the darkness and struck him across the cheek.

"Shut up," Dean said again. "You're pathetic. Get some back-bone, would ya, you miserable excuse for a brother."

"Not Dean… You're not Dean!"

"You sure, brat? 'Cause I sure as hell look like him."

Where was everyone? He wanted Dean to stop, to go away. But he wouldn't.

Sam tried to scramble away from his sibling, throwing the blankets one way, and tearing the IV out of his arm. He yelped as it tore his skin.

A thick arm wrapped around his waist and slammed him back against the pillows.

"You want to join Mommy so bad, Sammy?" Dean growled. "I can help you." He moved onto the bed to straddle the smaller frame and pulled out a pillow, covering Sam's face before he could even scream.

"Nighty-night, brat."

Little fingers clawed at his arms, digging deep into his flesh, but it didn't matter. He relished the muffled cries of panic, and the desperate movements beneath him as the boy tried to breathe.

Any time now…

"Hey!"

He looked up, and at the same moment a gunshot rang through the air and pain exploded in his left shoulder. The force of the blow knocked him off the bed and onto the floor, where he glared up into the fierce face of the real Dean Winchester.

"No one hurts my brother and gets away with it."

The shapeshifter snarled.

Bobby ran in behind Dean and rushed to Sam, tossing the pillow aside. The boy lay still except for his sides heaving as he rapidly inhaled precious oxygen.

" _NO!"_ the shifter screamed. "He must die!" He struggled to his feet only to find himself kicked back down by the one he copied.

Sam's eyes fluttered. "Dean?"

"I'm here, Sammy." Dean didn't move his eye from the shapeshifter. "It's really me this time."

Bobby scooped Sam into his arms, and Sam spared a look down at the shifter, then back at Dean.

Always full of questions, he didn't question what he was seeing this time. He knew Dean. And the thing on the floor _wasn't_ him.

"You guys really need to stop stealing my face," Dean said, annoyed. "I mean, seriously. How many times do I have to die?" He waved his gun in the air. "What did I do to deserve this shit?"

"You killed my brother!"

Dean frowned. "Oh that freak in Pennsylvania? He was a nut." He tilted his head. "And so are you." To Bobby he said, "Take Sam and go to the car."

Bobby nodded in acknowledgement. "Cover your ears, Sammy," he told the boy in his arms, and holding him tight, Bobby left the room.

Dean stared down at the shapeshifter, his face stony and emotionless, and the doppelganger couldn't help but tremble in fear.

"This is for Sammy," Dean said, raising his gun.

And fired.

* * *

 


	13. One Last Request

* * *

 

Not wanting to hang around after that, Dean quickly hoisted the dead shapeshifter over his shoulder, trying not to gag at the fact that he'd just shot himself…again…and made a hasty getaway out of the hospital using the back corridors. It was one of those occasions that he wished he had a silencer.

He dumped the body in the back of the Impala, noting to salt and burn it later, and hopped into in the car. Across the lot, the headlights of Bobby's own vehicle flared as the engine revved, and together they sped away.

Several miles out, over in the next town, Dean pulled up in front of a motel for them to hole up for the rest of the night.

"Dean!" Sam was no sooner out of Bobby's car when he jumped into Dean's arms, hugging him tight. "I knew it wasn' you, I knew!" Tears were streaking down his face. "You'd never be so mean an say nasty things like that. Nuh-uh. You don' hate me, do you?" he suddenly blurted.

"What? No, Sammy. You're my little brother and I love you, just the way you are." Maybe he'd killed the shapeshifter too fast. "That thing, it wasn't me. I'd never say those things. Never. You hear me?"

Sam wept into Dean's shoulder.

Bobby came running up to them from the motel lobby, a set of keys dangling in his hand. "Room 11, down at the end."

Dean nodded, and bundled Sam up in his coat, carrying the boy there.

It didn't take them long to settle in, and Sam was soon snuggled beneath one of the bed covers asleep.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, lightly carding his fingers through his brother's hair.

"You need me?"

Dean looked up. "What?"

"Rufus called," Bobby explained. "Said something about a poltergeist."

Dean looked back down at Sam. "You go on ahead. I think we're good now."

"Ya sure?"

"Yeah. Sammy's safe now."

"I was asking about you," Bobby said.

Dean smiled weakly. "As long as Sam is okay, so am I."

"Alright then." Bobby gave the young hunter a pat on the shoulder. "You take it easy now, boy." And then he left.

Dean yawned. He'd been up for nearly 48 hours. It was time he hit the sack.

He turned to move over to the other bed, when a small hand grabbed his.

"Don' go…"

Dean sat back down. "Never, Sammy."

"Promise?"

Dean lay next to his sibling and wrapped an arm protectively around him. "Promise."

* * *

"No…no… _noooo…"_

Dean awoke to desperate little whimpers. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, and as he did so, he realized that he no longer had his little brother in his grasp.

"Noooo….."

Sam was on the other side of the bed, laying haphazardly beneath the sheets and a sleek sheen of sweat glistening on his body.

"Deee…"

Dean quickly scooted over to him and pulled him into his arms. He didn't need to know what Sam was dreaming about to know that is wasn't happy. "Sammy… Sam, I'm here. You're safe."

Sam stilled, then ever so slowly cracked open an eyelid. "De?"

"I'm here, Sammy."

"De, I'm scared…."

Dean's heart wrenched at the quiet words. "I know, kiddo, I know."

Sam turned around and fisted his hand into his big brother's shirt. "I…I want Daddy…"

 _I'm sorry, Sammy…I'm so, so damn sorry… But Dad's gone. Dad's…dead…_ "I know, Sammy," he said instead. "I want Dad too…"

But it was one thing neither of them could have.

They were alone.

* * *

They stayed several nights in the motel; Dean didn't feel up to going anywhere, not with the state with baby brother was in. The nightmares became constant, and Sam's pleas for their father almost deafening.

The boy was traumatized enough, so telling him that John was dead was out of the question.

But Dean couldn't take it anymore. His ears were ringing with Sam's cries.

" _Where's Daddy?"_

" _I want Daddy!"_

" _Deeeeeaaaaannn! I want DAAAAAA-DDDYYYYYY!"_

" _Dad's not here, all right!"_ Dean snapped finally. "He's not here! He's…he's not…." He broke off with a sob.

"Dean?"

There was a tug on his sleeve and he looked down to see Sammy staring up at him with wide puppy eyes.

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean asked, regretting that he'd yelled at his sibling.

Sam didn't answer, but instead crawled into his lap. "Don' worry, Dean," he said. "We have each other, righ'?"

"Right."

* * *

It had been a mistake the first time. He'd almost lost his little brother. But to keep him this way? It was asking for Sam to get killed.

Dean paced outside the motel. He had to be quick. He'd told Sam he was only getting a soda and would only be a minute, not wanting to leave the boy alone for long.

Actually, Dean didn't want to leave him alone at all, but he had to do this. He had to.

One more time.

"God…" He exhaled heavily, shoulders lumping in defeat. "I-I know I asked for you to give me my little brother back…and I…well, you took it literally, but….thanks." Dean gave a nod. "Thanks a lot. It made me realize that Sam's still my brother, no matter how much he's changed."

He glanced up towards the evening sky. "And I'd like you to change him back. Please."

He waited for a moment, trying to remember if he was missing something. _Oh yeah…_

"Amen."

And with that, Dean went back inside.

"Wer's your soda, Dean?"

Dean ruffled Sam's hair affectionately. "Changed my mind, kiddo. Now, into bed, you."

Sam scrambled beneath the covers and looked towards Dean in anticipation.

"What?"

"Story, Dean."

"What?" Dean repeated.

"I wants a story."

Dean sighed. "I think you're getting too old for that, Sammy."

"Pweeeeeeeaaaaassse?" Sam put on his best puppy dog eyes.

Dean caved in. He couldn't refuse the look, not that one. "All right! All right." He perched himself on the edge of Sam's bed. "Ummm…" Crap. He couldn't remember any of the stories he used to tell his little brother. _I knew I should've kept those damn books…_

"Ummm… Once upon a time…uh…there were two brothers—"

"Like us?"

"Yeah, Sammy, like us. Now, these two brothers were heroes, okay? Not like Superman or Batman or anything, but heroes. They saved people, fought monsters…"

"Monsters like the bad people who hurt me?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. So…they did all that, taking down any bad guys they could find, traveling all over the country to find these things and keep them from hurting anyone. And though the world would never know about them, it felt good to know that they saved lives."

"How come no one knows?"

"Because people are afraid to know what lies in the dark, Sammy."

"Are you afraid?"

Dean smiled. "Do I look afraid to you?"

"No."

"Anyway, these two brothers weren't afraid either. Not that they enjoyed the job or anything, far from it, but someone had to do it. Besides, it was a family business. Their parents had done it, their grandparents…" _God, we have a screwed up family…_ "So they did it too. There were evil things to hunt down, and no one else was gonna to do it for them."

"The younger brother tried to be normal though. He got a full ride to college, Stanford of all places, but…well…he was always the smart one in the family. But evil found him, and he was dragged back into this life, and everything went downhill from there."

Soft snores reached his ears and Dean glanced down to see Sam fast asleep.

"Hate, love, sacrifice… It's what we're about, isn't it, little brother?" Dean moved over to his own bed and slipped under the covers.

"Sleep tight, Sammy."

And crossing his fingers that God heard his plea, he promptly followed his sibling into dreamland.

* * *

 


	14. On the Road Again

* * *

 

Dean awoke to snoring.

Not the soft quiet mewling of a six year old, but the deeper, gruffer snorts of someone older.

He opened his eyes and stared straight ahead to the bed beside him.

It was Sam. _His_ Sam. The twenty-six year old brother he knew so well.

And…was he sucking on his thumb?

Dean sat up. Indeed Sam was—curled on his side in a ball and his thumb stuck in his mouth.

And he was making little _slurpy_ sounds in the process.

Dean glanced around. _Where's the phone when you need it?_ He spotted it and flipped it open in one deft move. "Smile, Sammy-boy."

Sam opened his eyes. "Mmff—?"

Now _that_ was a Kodak moment.

* * *

It took Dean awhile to stop laughing and Sam to stop blushing furiously from embarrassment, but when they did, they sat beside each other and tried to catch up on what occurred during Sam's time as his kid self.

Not that there was much to catch up on.

"I remember everything," Sam said. "I remember us going to Bobby's, the demons coming, and…" He looked up. "You bought me a stuffed dog."

"Hell yeah," Dean said. "Even at six, those damn puppy eyes of yours couldn't be turned down. I _had_ to buy it."

Sam laughed. "Speaking of Cubby, he's still at Bobby's…"

 _He? Sam, you sure you're feeling all right?_ "So? Want me to call Bobby and get rid of it?"

"No… Just have him put it away," Sam said, shaking his head out of his recent childhood memories. "Who knows? We might need it again."

Dean raised a brow. "Planning on spending more time as a little kid?"

Sam shrugged. "Never know."

There was a moment of silence, then Sam spoke, his voice quieter.

"Did you really mean it?"

Dean met his sibling's gaze. "Mean what?"

"That you'd always be there to protect me?"

 _The Hell…?_ "Yeah, Sam!" _Why are you even asking?_ "Always. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

Sam gave a nod. "Good to know."

"I know things have been tense between us and our lives are shit, but I'll _always_ care. No matter what, okay?" He huffed. "So, can we stop with the chick-flick moment now?"

Another laugh. God, he missed that sound. It was so much like the Sam he'd spent the last couple of weeks with, the Sam he'd left behind when he'd gone to Hell… "At least we're all good now, right?"

"Right. Just…" Sam looked pleadingly at his brother, "as cool as it was, no more praying please."

Dean gave him a thumbs-up. "Gotcha. I'm not in the mood to change any diapers next time."

"I wasn't wearing any diapers!"

"Almost."

"I was _six…_ "

"So? You almost wet your pants when I tickled you." Dean grinned as he reflected back to that happy moment at Bobby's before everything went to heck.

Sam glared. "Did not!"

"Yeah, _sure_ …"

"You're such a jerk, you know that?"

"Bitch."

Maybe things could work out after all…

There was another pause. Sam chewed the corner of his lip and grinned broadly.

"Is this a bad time for you to tell me another story?"

Dean punched his shoulder none-too-gently. "Laugh it up, Sammy-boy. But remember, I'm the one with the blackmail."

"Oh yeah…" Sam winced.

The wonders of a camera phone.

Dean vaguely wondered if he ought to post that image on the Internet.

_"Back on the road again… Just can't wait to get back on the road again…"_

Sam raised a brow as they walked towards the Impala and Dean began to sing. Quietly, but he sang, of all things. Not that it was rare for him to do, but it was…uncommon.

"Dean?"

Dean stopped. "Hmm?"

Sam shook his head at his sibling. This was the first time in a long time he'd seen Dean looking so carefree, and he wasn't going to ruin it. "Never mind."

Dean hopped into the driver's seat, swiping a newspaper off the passenger end to let hiss little brother sit down beside him.

Sam's gaze flicked to the back seat where all the kiddie supplies were. "Guess we can save that too."

Dean frowned. "Seriously? C'mon man. I don't think we'll be going through this again. The dog is one thing, but all that?"

Sam only shrugged.

"Fine." Dean threw his arms up in defeat. 'You win."

"Don't I always," Sam said with a grin.

"You so do _not."_ Dean waved the paper in front of Sam's nose and rolled his eyes. "But forget about that. Now that the Winchester brothers are back in business, how about we get back to work?" He unrolled it, eyes rapidly skimming over the page. "There've been a series of unexplained maulings down over in Chester. Locals blame the attacks on a wild animal."

"Any leads?"

"Yeah." Dean passed the paper over. "All the victims were missing their hearts."

Sam's gaze flicked down to the article. "Werewolf."

"Bingo."

"Then let's take it down."

Dean didn't need to be told twice and pressed down on the gas pedal.

Back on the road again…

* * *

The small town of Chester was quiet, the pale rays of the moon lighting the deserted streets. Who could blame the townspeople? No one wanted to end up being another victim, despite the facts that the police said that people were safe from any wild animal if they traveled in groups.

But what about that poor couple from down the road? Or those three campers just beyond in the woods?

Nope. No one was taking any chances.

And if it was up to Dean, no one had to ever again.

"Sam, could you get the silver from the trunk?"

"Sure thing."

As Sam went off to do just that, Dean mulled over the paper where he'd written down where all the victims had been discovered, noting that they were all pretty much isolated in a single area. Which in itself was a relief, so they didn't have far to hunt for the beast.

Not having far to look, they could corner it, put a bullet in its heart, and call it a night.

Ahh…He missed these simple jobs. If one could call hunting a werewolf simple. There was always a danger of some sort, but at least it was a break from all the angels and demons and crap.

"Uh…Dean?"

Sam's voice, filled with concern, caught Dean's attention immediately. "What? What's wrong?" _Oh God, is he—? Demons again? Sammy…?_

Sam peeked his head around from the back of the car, eyes wide. "You do know there's a dead body in the truck, right?"

Dean blinked.

… _Oops._

Okay, so not _everything_ was back to normal.

 _Note to self,_ Dean thought, _Take down wolfie, then deep-fry shifter._

After that, they could call it a night.

 

 

 

 

_Fin._

* * *

 


End file.
